HOPE BY HUDERA TARIQ (POETRY).
Every day, I wake up with the spirit of hope to be the brilliant daughter. Each night turns into a nightmare of disappointments.
Sometimes, I find myself crying over my pillow when my patience reaches its edge. Will I ever get love without being perfect, just like others? My chest feels heavy with the answer I know, whenever I see a daughter who is loved by her mother.
I lose myself staring, yearning for them. It triggers the longing to be loved without flawlessness. I always get compared to others. My soul is wounded by her words; each wound bleeds in a different manner.
However, I’ll never get her love. Maybe one day I’ll become the fullest version of myself. Maybe she would love me the way I wanted to be Every day, I wake up with the spirit of hope to be the brilliant daughter. Each night turns into a nightmare of disappointments.
Sometimes, I find myself crying over my pillow when my patience reaches its edge. Will I ever get love without being perfect, just like others? My chest feels heavy with the answer I know, whenever I see a daughter who is loved by her mother.
I lose myself staring, yearning for them. It triggers the longing to be loved without flawlessness. I always get compared to others. My soul is wounded by her words; each wound bleeds in a different manner.
However, I’ll never get her love. Maybe one day I’ll become the fullest version of myself. Maybe she would love me the way I wanted to be loved.loved.