My misery is fatal,
for the world fights a greater battle.
I'm afraid to commit that I'm weak,
since every wound of mine bleed.
I fail to bear or fight back,
unable to understand what I possibly lack.
I'm blessed and cherished with love,
yet I complain like an ungrateful dove.
They've seen worse yet stand firm,
they cry but make sure to have a turn
Where all I ever did was portray,
fragility of the human race.
I'm ashamed and discreet of my birth,
I wonder if it'd be better returning hearth.

© bhavya_sheisvintage