Sitting here wondering
Or maybe I was pondering
About the childhood that really made me.. me
Was it because of the attention I once had
From the father whose gone now?
Or maybe it was the days I spent under the tree
Laughing and playing with him?
Was it when I moved overseas
That my memory of him felt just like a dream?
Or maybe it was when he replaced my name with "that child"
And then he called me "it"?
Thoughts rushing back like bullets through the air.
I remember my first father's day and how it ended with a tear.
I wonder if it was the card that I brought home as a gift to him
Or maybe it was the words or the colors that made him scream
Get Out You Stupid Child , You're Not Mine !
The 8 words that cut me so deeply even till now
Maybe it was the endless nights I spent
Crying, praying, wishing I was dead
Or just even far away from here
It could have been when I missed my cycle back then
For three months that's it
And my mother made a scene
Making him think of me as a piece of shit
So here I am now a disowned daughter
Unwanted by her so called father.
