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My father figure circles an A on my work.
He doesn’t wake me up in the morning; nor does he drive me to school
He changes his face and name every school year
But his role is the same and he never knows it
When I write a poem, I vomit my thoughts
Because what would a father figure say?
When I hurt myself in the science lab, he’s the first I call for
Because what would a father figure do?
He’s only there for half of the day
He’s blind to the scars and the pills
He’s deaf to mother’s words that punish me
But he’s the closest I can get to a parent
And when I disappoint him
I’m that lonely little girl once again on father’s day
Wondering why everyone else can participate but I can’t
And that pain, it makes your heart twist
The blood stops but the tears are overflowing
Because you can’t hug him
He doesn’t tell you he loves you
He isn’t proud of you
You never meant anything to him, you’re not a piper
Nor do you mean anything to the robot that hands you the exam paper
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