The life in your face

There is an unbelievable amount of disparities between me and you;
However, unfortunately to my own dismay, there are quite a few similarities too.
For instance, the fine line of a frown painted across your face
When the ones you love most let you down.
The way you carry your hurt along those pretty little shoulders
Into every room you enter; each disappointment leaves you a little colder.
The way you settle for the situations you are dealt with hardly even a fight.
My mind trickles towards the past and I wonder if you ever shook your head no,
If you ever did something about feeling trapped, if you ever fought to try to change that.
I can see the lines of hurt crinkled upon your brow,
Your hollow walk across the hardwoods,
And I can't help but wonder how?

Did loneliness set in and cause you to settle? Did worthlessness fool you into feeling belittled?
Is the reason two strangers stand in the kitchen because you didn't believe that you could be loved?
It's hard for me to say, but your entire life is in your face.
Your eyes scream of the countless tears, the nights spent leaking into your pillow,
The nights you cried over a dying father,
The heartache of a grudge-holding mother,
The tears shed over your balancing school and paying it off... until you eventually lost that, too.
A life of loss;
And now you walk hollowly across the floor,
You poured everything you had into your children, but were heartbroken that they did not love you more.

Your daughter came to mimic your hollow walk, and you worried especially for her.
"Don't grow up and be like me, don't make my mistakes."
But she knew that she was the one that lived a lifestyle the most like you,
She carried this with her each and every day, these burdens upon her shoulders; she learned it from you. But, still, you rebuked her for it because you wish someone had warned you.
You saw the way she carried her hurt along those jagged lines,
You propped her up and dusted her off,
As if you were saying, "Look pretty for the people, don't show them your hurt."
But then, she began to hold them in. She wanted a mother to speak to; for your approval she begged.
Each mistake she made similar to yours was another crack along your heart,
Reminders of the past, your shoulders got heavy.
It's hard to love someone representative of your hurt.
Still, she adored you. The hurt you caused her was marked along her skin, but she loved you, still.
She wanted back those days when you would sing to her, rub her spine along her back,
Humming songs to her and kissing her head.
She hated herself for growing up and becoming like you,
"I'm sorry mom, I know you told me not to."

See, but the difference between her and you is that she doesn't want to settle and she hopes for a better ending.
She has clung to words of wisdom and knows not to be angry with you.
She walks boldly now, and she knows who she is.
It hurts her that her mother still disapprovingly shakes her head, but she knows that her mothers approval isn't absolute truth.
She won't let worthlessness fool her into thinking she cannot be loved;
She wants you to know that you are worth loving, too.