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Insecurities is all over my body again.
Their words is like a knife stabbed in my chest;
They always make me feel this way,
I can't be like her, mom.
Because she's to good for me.
She's your angel,
I am the evil.
She's your only hope.
I am the disappointment one.
She's the best.
And I am just no one;
She's smart.
I am not.
She can make you proud.
I can't.
She's good enough.
I am bad. An evil one.
But can I ask a favor, instead?
Will you please stop comparing me to her?
It hurts.
My chest hurts.
Because I know, I will never be like her.
Never, mom.
* * * * * *
YOU ARE READING
The Pain Will Gradually Diminish Through This Poem
PoetryUnsaid thoughts that became a poem ahead. Cover is not mine, credits to the owner.
