i wasn’t born to be hated
but somehow, i became the easiest one to hurt.
my name
the first they throw when something goes wrong,
even if i was just breathing in the other room.

i don’t speak anymore
because when i do,
they twist my words into blades.
but silence isn’t peace either
they still say “she’s hiding something.”
i can’t win.
not even with silence.

i’m not allowed to choose.
not allowed to rest.
not allowed to wear what i love,
sit where i feel safe,
or even close my door.
my life is a prison
with no locks,
just people
who keep reminding me
i have no freedom.

my brother
he’s gold in their eyes.
he breathes, and they smile.
i bleed,
and they ask why i made a mess.

my second mother,
the one who once called me her own
now walks past me like i’m nothing.
her words for him are sweet and careful,
for me
sharp, bitter, unforgiving.

my father used to call me princess.
now he calls me a mistake.
i wonder if he even remembers
the version of me he once loved.

and maybe what hurts the most is this:
no one loves me.
not truly.
not gently.
not in the way that doesn’t feel like I owe them something in return.
every person who should have loved me
chose to hurt me instead.
every touch became a bruise.
every word became a scar.

i don’t know what i did
to deserve being the outsider
in my own home.
but now i’ve stopped asking why
because even the question
gets me hurt.

i try. i do the chores. i keep quiet.
i hide my pain like it’s something shameful.
but even then
“so what if you helped?”
“you don’t do enough.”
“you’re the problem.”
they say it like it’s the only song they know.

sometimes, i wish
i could unzip this skin
and leave behind the version of me
they never cared to understand.

i don’t want love anymore.
i just want silence
that doesn’t scream at me.
i want kindness
that doesn’t come with conditions.
i want to exist
without feeling like a burden.

i am a daughter
not by how they treat me,
but by how much i keep loving
even when i’m unloved.

but now,
i am also a daughter made of wounds,
stitched together by the nights i cried alone,
still standing,
still surviving,
even when no one clapped for me.