They want me to be perfect.
In everything I can.
They want me to change
For whom? For them?
Why should I change for them,
Did they even tried to understand?
I am not perfect,
But I am happy being imperfect.
They hate how I laugh,
They hate how I eat,
They hate how I act,
They hate how I live.
They think that they are perfect,
I am too, in my way.
They hate when I talk to boys,
They hate when I talk too much on call with my friends.
They hate when I ignore them,
They hate when I reply them.
I wish they would understand me for once,
I am their daughter, not their servant,
I am a human, not any robot.
YOU ARE READING
Depressed Life
PoetryI don't know How is your life at your home but I hope it's not like me. If you also have strict parents who don't let you do anything then you will also relate to these.
