Wallflower

 

Am I really as worthless as I seem?

 Or just a ghost of a half-formed dream?

I see them build their lives with grace,

While I drift quiet, out of place.

They speak in stories, bold and bright,

While I’ve grown used to shrinking light.

They had their chances, carved in stone —

I learned to dream when left alone.

I tried to bloom in secret light,

 But wilted when it came to fight.

 And every step I tried to take

 Felt like a sin I couldn’t make.

Now guilt, like perfume, fills the air,

In half-meant words, in softened care.

They say, “It’s not too late, just start,”

But something aches behind my heart.

Am I punishing them, or just me?

 For who I was, or couldn't be?

 For all the doors that stayed shut tight,

 Or the ones I feared to push with might?

Their pride wraps ‘round their sons like gold,

In tales repeated, fondly told.

But me? I’m quiet — always was —

A gentle hush, a muted pause.

I hold resentment like a flame,

And still, I long to not feel blame.

They call me kind, they call me wise,

 But never with the same bright eyes.

 And though I try to understand,

 It hurts to feel so secondhand.

But maybe they’re not all to blame,

 Perhaps I fed my own small flame.

 Because what do I shine in? What’s my gem?

 I’m shy, I’m scared, I hide, I fall,

 I build no ladders, just walls too tall.

Maybe it’s me — maybe I fall,

 Too soon, too fast, too much, that’s all.

 I chase, then flinch; I open, close;

 And ruin what I need the most.

I sit with pain I’ve never named,

 And let the silence take the blame.

 I wear my silence like a crown

 While watching love just let me down.