Whispers of The Soul: Poems and Musings

Bad daughter

I am the terrible daughter, the one who perpetually fumbles.

Every step, every word, a source of frustration and disappointment.

I cannot seem to prove my worth, my capabilities,

As I navigate this intricate dance of filial expectation.

She, the fulcrum of my existence, the axis upon which it turns,

Demands a constant affirmation of love, a relentless presence.

To her, my desire for independence, my longing to explore,

Is not a search for self, but a rejection of her love, a betrayal.

At twenty-three, I am tethered to her like an errant balloon,

The string of her love wrapped too tightly around my wrist.

I yearn to soar, to travel to distant lands, to forge my own path,

But every step I take is weighed down by the guilt of separation.

She clings to me, a lifeline in a tempestuous sea,

Fearing that the distance I crave is a reflection of her failure.

In her eyes, my desire for moments apart is a repudiation,

An abandonment of the love she so tirelessly bestows.

To me, it is not a question of love, but of autonomy,

A yearning to be with others I hold dear, to breathe freely.

Yet, in her world, this act of self-discovery is a betrayal,

A wound that cuts to the core of our intertwined existence.

I am the daughter who never quite measures up,

The one who seeks to define herself outside the confines of her gaze.

But every attempt at independence is met with resistance,

And the notion of a life separate from hers is a dagger to her heart.

In this complex web of love and longing, I am lost,

A daughter who wishes to be more than the sum of her mistakes.

But in her eyes, my desire for autonomy is a rejection,

A sign that I do not love her enough to be with her always.

T.