Tomorrow I will meet you
And there's less than twenty-four hours.
What do I want from you?
Nothing.
But what do you expect from me?
You have no rights to force me to do this thing,
Yet you have no clue that this isn't exactly what I want,
Not right now.
No one gives me a damn moment to think,
They're sure I've had plenty,
It's not nearly enough.
No one understands how this works,
Probably because this isn't supposed to happen,
It's the defect of an unwanted baby girl.
Yes, I've spent ages saying
What I wish
But that wish did not include you,
In my imagination it was someone else
Even if you think that's rude.
Although when it comes down to all this that's going on
That doesn't mean I want it to,
It becomes a different situation
And again, I'm back to having no say in all this dissipation.
Everyone imagines this as a moment of joy,
Compassion, unbelievable heart felt love.
I'd rather think of it as rejection.
We're just conducting some unimportant test,
You're nothing to me now,
No matter what it says
You probably never will be,
Whether that's due to you or me.
I hate how
After tomorrow I might not be able to say
"I've never met my father."
That might sound strange but to me it's a bother.
When everyone else thinks of a reunion it's
"Oh wow! I've missed you so much!
I now feel complete I'm so happy!"
No part of me is missing.
Not cold hellos and
"We did a DNA test,
It turns out he was it."
No they image: "oh I finally get to meet you",
Because I don't know it's you.
I wonder what you really think,
But I'm not sure I want to.
Maybe if you could do one thing,
The same as you always have:
You could leave me alone.
It's not like it will be hard for you,
Whoever you are.
Finding you out isn't fun.
It's painful,
So you can stop shoving me against the walls of my own brain,
Give me hope
To burn to the ground again.
That's another thing which won't be hard for you to obey,
Because this time,
I decided not to bother with hope in the first place.
Tomorrow I will meet you,
There probably won't be a hair out of place.
I don't know if I'll frown or smile,
Only the first option won't be a lie.
Tomorrow I will meet you,
And after that I've no clue what I'll do,
All the ways I've tried will have come to the end;
My water supply dried.
Tomorrow I will meet you,
Hours later I probably won't attempt to prevent the tears,
Because it finally happened
And I'm not at all pleased.
15/9/17
YOU ARE READING
Escaping Sorrow
PoetryA project where I attempt to overcome the absence of an unknown man supposed to shape a father - whatever that is. Putting this out here is a massive step for me because up to a point of last year I hardly even allowed myself to write down the word...
