If I had one last chance, I wouldn't be afraid.
Everyone expect me to be the vanilla ice cream of a canvas.
Easy to start.
Hard to finish.
Hearing the voices around me with anger and rage, I wanted to be strong.
Strong enough to fight those expectations to the ground.
To kiss the hearts that cherished my fragile boring soul.
Will they love me when I am different?
Will they hear my voice and burn it into their vicious and angry hearts?
Will they bruise the already infected soul with the regular dose of compliments of failures and misfortune?
Hearing the crystal shattered into pieces as they flashed memories of the old me.
Riding his bike...
Laughing with his family...
Cherishing the things that he hold dear...
Why it should stop because you wanted me gone?
The bruises...
The cuts...
The spit...
Are all there on my body, ready for round two of the bashful beating from before.
Physical pain doesn't last forever.
Emotional and psychological pain lasts a lifetime.
Stabbed with regret of my birth isn't enough for you.
Why do you spit on my future grave with dissatisfaction?
Did I break your trust?
Or did I break your expectations of who I shown you for all these years?
Tell me why I was justified by your belittling fruit of parenting?
Did I hurt you for the countless examples of my happiness?
Just give me one more chance to be what you want me to be.
I will give you my free will.
My mother.
My father.
My GOD.
I will give you my happiness to be miserable to please your expectations!
If you give me one last chance, I will wouldn't be afraid to be you.
YOU ARE READING
Citadel
PuisiI wanted to dropped my guard and give you something to read from my infant days of writing poetry until now. I hope you enjoy it.
