The Weight I Didn't Choose
They crowned me first, and called it graceโ A child to lead, to hold the place. But I was forged in quiet strain, In shadows thick with unearned blame.
They said Iโd bloom, become the guide, But roots donโt bloomโtheyโre buried, tied. I held the weight she wouldnโt name, And learned to swallow all the shame.
Her love, it lives in softer tonesโ But never once was it my own. She warms to him, her gentler sun, While I remain the distant one.
Was it my sin to bear his face? To stand where she regrets his place? I never asked for blood or nameโ Yet still, somehow, I take the blame.
"Think twice before you speak," they sayโ But no one hears me anyway. I try, I bend, I chase her grace, She only sees what I erase.
Did I break rules I couldnโt see? Or simply fail at being me? I didnโt choose this heavy roleโ To be the thread thatโs never whole.
I never begged to share her life, Yet still she cuts me like a knife. I give and give, I show up true, But all she feels are things I "do."
And yet I riseโunseen, unheardโ With trembling hands and unsaid words. Not for her praise, or for her eyes, But just to keep my soul alive. โ๐ป@eiysiizwrites
