that sacred sentence

now what do i do anyway in this house..
when a house is not a home anymore..
it used to be so nice with a very warm welcome
but now whenever i come
only tears i shed and no more charm..

i miss hearing "when will you go home? we miss you"
i always look forward for that smile when i arrived at the town..
instead of those,
what i got was all the victorious story of else's
that pointed on my face as saying i'm the second best..

now i have never been a pride for you
still, i try to prove i have a courage
then again you sunk me into this misery
when you talked to me like i have nothing to give
as if all i have was only troubles for you..

luckily, i never heard that you're sorry for delivering me out to this world
yet sometimes it hurt to know my gifts for you meant nothing
compare to the prizes he gave you..
the saddest part is, i'm old i'm too old to talk about this stuff
i'm now twenty and have to stand tall on my two foot..

if only i can let you know
how much preasure you give me..
if only i can ask for more of you cradle..
and just once for my lifetime
i wanna hear you say, "i'm proud of you, my daughter"