is that all ?

In imperfect skin, I dwell and hide, A soul that's weary, with a heart full of pride. I ask myself, do I deserve love's gentle touch, Only when I'm flawless, or is it too much? My parents' expectations, a weight I bear, A constant reminder, I'm not quite there. They see my struggles, but not my pain, And with each criticism, I feel like I'm to blame. They ask for marks, for grades, for success alone, But in their eyes, I see a love that's overthrown. They say I'm not trying, that I'm lost and astray, But they don't see the tears I cry, the sleepless nights I sway. The stress is crushing, the pressure's high, I'm losing myself, and I don't know why. I've stopped smiling, laughing, and living free, My heart is heavy, my soul is worn and weary. I hate myself, for not being enough, For not meeting expectations, for not being tough. But deep down, I know, I'm more than my flaws, I'm a work of art, in progress, with scars. Oh, won't they see, that I'm doing my best, That I'm trying to rise, above the rest? I yearn for love, for acceptance, for a gentle hand, To guide me through, this troubled land. ,