The Broken Concept
It’s been eighteen years since I was born.
I grew up chasing a lie called love.
Just a child in third grade,
When Broom’s metal broke me... tore me apart.
A lone piece left on the plate—
Still, it was him you'd nominate.
A pen or a diary—he’d get one.
‘These are his,’ you’d declare,
And I learned... I believed—
Maybe I didn’t deserve to speak.
I was cute, I was adoring—
Yet somehow, you found me embarrassing.
"Just listen, don’t talk," you'd say.
But you'd love my brother from the very first day.
I suffered. I cried.
Still, it’s me who must
Love you without a choice.
But love—
Love isn’t brought by force.
It’s an emotion...
If you’d feel it, pure and true.
You have your life, your thoughts,
Your ways of seeing the world.
But the way you’ve tortured me—
That...
Can never be justified.
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