The Price of Approval

The Price of Approval

I bent beneath the weight of eyes,

each gaze a thread that wove me tight.

A patchwork made of their replies,

stitched with whispers, laced with spite.

I shaped myself to fit their mold,

a puppet pulled by unseen strings.

Their nods, their frowns—each tale they told—

became my law, my offering.

I chased approval, begged for grace,

a hollow echo in the night.

But every step erased my face,

each nod of theirs dimmed my own light.

Until one day, the mirror spoke—

a voice so soft, yet bold and true:

"You are not theirs. You are your own.

No one can walk this path but you."

I dropped the weight, unchained my name,

let winds erase the lines they drew.

I am no puppet in their game—

I am enough, just as I choose.