I am sorry that I exist.
I am sorry I am not who you want me to.
That I’m not a boy.
I know that you’ve never said it outloud. But action speak louder than words, right?
I saw it in your pride.
I saw it in your humility.
I saw it in your anger.
I saw it in your happiness
I saw it in your grief.
If I were a boy we both could have been saved from the pain.
I keep trying to make your proud. But it’s never enough, isn’t it? Complications after complications. .. just because I’m a girl .
Please don’t make me feel ashamed of who I am.
I try so hard not to let it faze me as I try to hold the world in my hands. Rule over it like a true queen or annihilate it like its sworn enemy.
But your words they stick to me, like knives they stab me. I can go on a rampage.
It’s war and I’m not handed a weapon because you think I am too fragile.
I hold knives better than you. I will strike you down with a smile.
The hand that feeds you can be the hand that chokes you.
Tread lightly, my dear.