They say we don’t know the weight they carry,
But they don’t see the weight we bear.
They think our hearts are made of stone,
But we feel everything—every tear, every glare.

They criticize our every move,
Our bodies, our minds, the things we choose.
They say we’re too much, not enough,
Leaving us questioning if we’re tough enough.

They speak as though we’re too young to know,
But we feel the sting when their words blow.
They don’t see the battles we fight inside,
How we try to smile, to run, to hide.

They don’t realize we’re still just kids,
Trying to figure out where we fit.
But we won’t stay small forever,
And someday, we’ll rise above it all.

We’re learning to love who we are,
Even if they can’t see the scars.
We are still growing, still learning,
But don’t forget—we’re burning with yearning.

For understanding, for love, for space,
We need to be seen for who we are, not just our place.
We’re more than just the roles they play,
We are hearts with something to say.