In the quiet chambers of my heart,
Your voice still echoes, though we stand apart.
I learned to smile beneath the weight of blame,
Always the stubborn one, always the same.
You saw my temper, the fire in my eyes,
But never the tears I buried inside.
You called me cold when I could not speak,
Never seeing how much love made me weak.
I was the thorn beneath your gentle hand,
The difficult child you could not understand.
While her received the warmth of your light,
I stood in the shadows, learning to hide.
You praised her softness, embraced her ways,
While I was measured by my angry days.
If I fought, I was stubborn; if I cried, I was weak,
So I learned to swallow the words I could not speak.
I never asked to be your favorite,
Only to be loved without having to earn it.
But every comparison became a scar,
Teaching me that I was never enough as I was.
I was fierce because I had no choice,
Loud because no one heard my quiet voice.
A temper like thunder, a heart made of rain,
I carried my love beneath layers of pain.
You saw the coldness I wore like stone,
But never the softness I kept unknown.
I could be fire, I could be frost,
Yet loving you was never something I lost.
I remember the moments I wished you'd stay,
Even when pride made me push you away.
I wanted your arms, though I turned from your light,
A wounded child pretending she was all right.
Perhaps I was stubborn, perhaps I was hard,
Perhaps I built walls and guarded my heart.
But beneath every battle, beneath every scar,
I was only your daughter, reaching from afar.
And now, through the seasons that quietly pass,
I wonder if you ever saw through the glass,
Beyond the temper, the silence, the pride,
To the tender-hearted daughter I kept inside.
I never needed to be loved more than her,
I only wished to feel I belonged as your other daughter.
Not the difficult one.
Not the cold-hearted one.
Not the child you misunderstood.
Just me.
Your other daughter
Who loved you more deeply
Than she ever knew how to show.