+He's Not My Dad+

He's not my dad. He's not my father.
This man lying on a hospital bed in the middle of my living room, expressing his thoughts on how IM the worthless one, holds no title.
He's not my dad. He's not my father.

My father is dead. He died the day after my birthday.
Tragic, yes I know.
Now this man, this thing who speaks as if he owns the world claims to be him.
He's not my dad. He's not my father.
He's not the hero I used to know. My dad was the greatest man alive.
His laugh made my heart smile.
His tears made my soul wilt.
Now this man, telling me IM of no use, telling me IM disrespectful claims to be MY DAD?!
Obsurd... Absolutley obsurd.
He's not my daddy. He's not my father.
He's not the man who raised me... Wrong I was raised, but still---tough skin.
Thanks to my father Im not hurt easily.
But this man, this greedy, oblivious man claims to be my owner, my father.
He must be sick... He must be...
Because my father died... The day after my birthday...
I remember it clearly... Sept. 19.
Ambulence were late---of course.
The lights nearly blinded me, and all I saw was a blur.
My tears could barely be held back....--the lights, blue red white.
My heart was pounding...
It felt as though the world was crashing down on my back.
My ears were clogged... I could hear my own breath...
Mother screaming... Lieing to the cops...
Why would you lie? To authority?
---maybe she was scared.

I ran to my room... Turning to the only antidote known to my system...
My disease---the cure... Somedays the blood is less thick...---like red water.
That day---crimson.thicker than water...

My thoughts are interupted... The Man is demanding drink...
God Forbid we have two seconds of leisure...
I cant play the piano... He hushes me...
He says I should take lessons...
So that I can be use for something...
My mom shakes her head... And continues with her activity...

But theres a boy... A beautiful boy...
He sees me, the real me...
He knows Im not just a body, a tool, scared and bruised...
---feelings... visible to him...
I thought my emotions had dwindled... Scarce...
My mind was becoming more---....alive.
No time for nonsense conversation with individuals...
No respect---received. Simple notions clouded my judgement...
Personal encounters made life a story...
And oh how I wished it could've been fiction...---not real.
Oh how I wish this whole life is a dream...
and I'll wake up in a room with no doors---no windows...
White walls... White floor... And God himself [if he exists] motioning for me to step forward...
Id bow--yes. That seems appropriate.
And ask him this--- Why was I chosen to live in a nightmare? Where there is no escape...not even death?
There must be a logical explanation... A reason...
My whole life I was made to believe I was sick when I wasnt...
---i wasnt [then]
Now I grew up and each day I wake up---sick to my stomach...
Each time I look in the mirror all I see is a failure... ---worthless
And other people just love to kick me down as I fall...
They wonder aimlessly around my corpse... wondering if somethings missing...
---except this boy. This beautiful boy.
He stares at me---not to be rude...
Hes amazed---by beauty? Could it be?
---If Im so beautiful, as others seem to think so, why do I feel hideous?
Like my whole body is covered with bruises...
Like my face is scared...and my mouth sewn shut...
Like my eyelids are glued together...---blind.
Im trying so hard to kill the thing on the outside...
---hiding what lies on the inside.
My body is cold---numb.
On the outside...I feel nothing more than the weather...
---but on the inside---im rotting [slowly]
Sorry Im such a disappointment...