I don't ask for much,
I don't expect much either,
Not from you anyway,
All I really want
Need
From you is
Your acceptance.
Am I asking too much?
Because you're making it
Seem so.
Just accept that
I am who I am,
Is that too difficult?
I'm not asking
To be understood,
Just accepted.
Your words,
You probably don't realize,
Are vitriolic.
They lacerate me,
My well-being.
Though you'd never
Know, looking at me.
For those wounds
Are well hidden
Behind the cool
Exterior of my dry
Humor, my biting
Sarcasm, and
Overall semblance of ennui.
Everytime you tell me
that I'm not smart
enough, pretty
Enough, fit enough,
Practical enough,
Outgoing enough,
It pains me.
But what hurts the most
Is that you upkeep
This constant effort
Of cutting me to size
To suit your needs,
In lieu of nurturing
Me, allowing me to spread
My wings,
I am caged in this miniscule
Space that is what you
Consider acceptable.
Yet,
You wonder why
I loathe to be around you,
Luxuriate in my time
Away from you,
Looking forward with
Eager anticipation.
What will it
take, I wonder
For you to say
that who I am
Is enough,
Because at the end
of the day, I am
A mistake, I
Am unwanted,
Undesirable in your
Eyes, so you
Try in vain
To make me into
What you want
This vision of
An ideal daughter
That I can never be,
As I struggle towards
My uncertain future,
Thinking, when will
I be enough?
So please,
Stop trying to
Change me,
Everyone else
Around me has already
Accepted who I am,
Why can't you?