⪻Poem #57⪼
It hurts to know I wasn't the favorite...
My grandma used to tell me.
Not someone else's priority.
Not someone you're proud to show off.
It hurts to know I'm not the favorite...
Always, the second choice.
Always... behind everybody else.
Unable be heard from all the noise.
It hurts to know I'll never be the favorite...
I'll never be good enough to others,
myself, to some random strangers.
Author's Note:
Hope you all like this one!
I made it thinking about a story I read recently. The main protagonist was someone who couldn't be someone's favorite daughter. Although, in the end, she was able to be happy regardless.
I've always wanted to write a poem something like this one, and I guess, I finally made it! ^^
