What’s so weird to watch is a world that couldn’t see my Parents in me? It’s so weird growing up in a world that could see what Sesame Street taught me about which one goes with which one and which ones out of place.
It’s weird to live in a world like that. A world that could just blow me off like that and expect me to be happy like this is all I can get? Telling me to sit down and shut up and suck it up and grow some, and make sure I don’t step out of my line cus they think I’m not their kind. While along I knew I was just like them except in one thing. I had more parents then them and no divorce papers so to say. And at the time I couldn’t prove to anyone that this was true and that my Mama does in fact love me but she’s just confused. And tell these heathens that laugh at me that one day I would prove them all wrong about me and my parents.
I’d show them the power of my parents love. I’d let it shine so bright. I’d let my voice loose and I’d sing my songs. I’d let them shine through me. Staring at all of you through me. Cuz that’s how it is for this weird adopted child who wasn’t adopted at all. She’s adapted. But I know where home is. Now.
It’s so weird when you just wanna see her face smiling at you, in her robe and her hair all clipped up. Her slippers on. She walks after a hug to make you a steaming cup and then you change the table cloth together while you take her space in. She brews while you listen to the radio and the sounds all bath you in that home energy. Like. Battery. You stay plugged in and recharge that woman of yours by coming home when her soul calls. To fight. To love. To sip and have it out in front of Mom while your sons see what homes like for me is pretty much like his home growing up. So did I leave at all?