Daughters Divided

My pet peeve is manipulation

In your voice

It's indistinguishable from your truth

Guilty for being born with everything you never had

Ignorant to your obligations as the oldest daughter

Blind to Familial expectations of unending strength

Sadness was inexpressible

Trapped, despair was rejected

Prohibited, banned, and unwanted

In the face of the Family

To feel exhaustion is weak

To convey unhappiness is foolish

Recognized only if cheerful

Applauses only heard in productivity

I wake to sounds of rotating ceiling fans

Breathing in the aroma of tofu noodles on the stove

High-tech devices are waiting patiently

In my self-embellished study

After 8 hours of online networking

Informational interviews

Two part-time jobs and job searching

I take a walk

Remorse follows with each step

The same questions resurface

Why am I the lucky one?

Why do I have the perfect life?

Am I an ungrateful daughter?

Manipulative tactics are never okay

Divided, I find validity in both sides

Does victimization play a role in my tears?

When is it valid for me to be sad?

Why do I cry when I am fortunate?

Your steps in Tam Kỳ

Trauma and sadness are friends

My steps in El Monte

Guilt and sadness indeed companions

You request to never see my lips frown

Demanding I cry where your eyes cannot see

Your only desire is to witness happy

Then happy I must always be.