Is it my Fault....

I am a daughter When I am born I bring Rehma to my parents While growing up I help my mother with house chores They call me the nightingale of the house They say my chatter keeps the house alive They say I am good luck to them But Once they get me married They leave me as if I am a burden A burden that they cannot carry anymore I am feeble and weak but still I carry the burden I am not strong but still left alone to fight I loved them and cared for them but their love is hidden Its hidden in the charade of their prestige They want the world to respect them, Even it means that I DIE inside Even if it means that I will be gone forever It is not my fault that I am a daughter Your prestige is not linked with me Let me live and let me fly... Before its too late and the nightingale DIE...