There is an illusion of happiness I create
There is a certain beauty I portray.
There is a figure I mold just to impress them.
I conform to their wits and to their actions in a desperate need to make them happy......Yet all my biding is in vain, they are ashamed of me
They hide me in their backs and only a little light I see....Broken and crushed me bit by bit, beyond repair.
Yet I love them still with the pieces of me that remain
I am like a sponge for blame, soaking it all in, leaving them spotless and faultless with perfect white garments
They stab my chest with false accusations... Spit on my face and drag me through the mud.
Yet I love them still
But today I say to you, one day my heart shall no longer be able to bag all these tsoris
I would let out all balagan
Dethrone their existence in my life, and crown my shame.
I would take my flit with much pride and bath her, my flaws and dirt would rise their heads up high reaching the glory of the skies
I will not be confined in the cage society has put me in, I will escape and deviate from the norms and expectations.
My ruler would not be religion but God..... I and my loneliness would find peace in our hellish haimish
Their joy in my sorrow would die and my joy in their disappointment would be alive. I would find the light to my darkest and lost part.

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