For the most part of my life, I’ve been a picky eater. One afternoon when this was pointed out in a negative light by one of my parents I started thinking about the fact that sometime’s parents don’t understand that when they make the decision to start a family they completely ignore the fact that their kid will be their own person, with their individual likes and dislikes, ideas, opinions, and perspectives that may differ from what they think and agree with. That whilst growing up, we have to put up with the fact that they expect us to be the way they imagined us throwing in occasions pretty hard judgments towards our growing minds and hurting us.
Like that, this poem was born.
It’s funny, isn’t it?
How the people that one day wanted us, how they said it’s what would make them happy and they wished with their entire soul, our creators end up complaining about the way you turn out to be.
How the people that are supposed to love us unconditionally without a doubt or flaw in mind are the quickest to judge or call us out on the things we may or may not dislike about ourselves.
How it bothers them that we are not exactly the way they wanted us to be when it was their decision to bring us to this world.
How every single hurtful judgment they express towards us feels like a knife stabbing the most sensitive skin and how the tears we let down are like transparent blood drops that fall from the deepest wound man can cause, the rejection of the people you once thought were perfect and you looked up to.
But as you age you see what kind of cruelty they can hold in their eyes and how their mind really works.
