The Inheritance of Unlived Dreams

The Inheritance of Unlived Dreams

She walked in footsteps not her own,

a path her mother once was shown.

Not by love, nor by design,

but for a dream that wasn’t mine.

Her mother longed for distant praise,

for envious eyes and words of grace.

Not passion’s fire, nor heart’s delight,

just borrowed stars to make her bright.

So daughter learned what mother taught—

not how to dream, but how to ought.

To chase approval, shining thin,

a hollow prize no heart could win.

The years went by, the seasons turned,

her soul stayed quiet, left unlearned.

For all she’d done, for all she’d tried,

she never knew the self inside.

And when at last her hands grew weak,

she turned to whisper, tried to speak.

But silence met her weary tongue—

a song unsung, a life undone.

And now another waits in line,

to bear the weight, to walk the lie.

A dream passed down, a name to claim,

and no one left to ask their name.