Collection of Recollections, Part I

If anyone asks,
who are you
or more importantly,
what are you?
I could only answer you with this:
an accumulation of never
a summation of being a second choice
 I thought I should let you know

I was eighteen
(soft cheeks, unruly hair, bare faced)
when I first saw someone I love,
it was me, happy
— I envy her

The day my mother knew
that the world has robbed off
the most innocent part of me
was when I told her
about the fact that
the foundation of marriage
is not always love
— The cruelest thing world has ever done to me

My grandmother told me about
the worth of women
it is when
they are chosen by worthy men,
those men that are smart, handsome,
and more importantly rich.
But my grandmother failed to tell me
that the sum of a woman's worth
has never been other people,
it is
everything that has happened,
and will happen to her;
it is her pain, her sweat, her tears,
her blood, her joyful laughter, and
everything that comes in between
nothing more and nothing less.
— Her own beating heart