Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Poem of a wretched daugther
I didn't mean to shout,
I didn't mean to yell.
But you must understand,
it was b'cause you accused.
You put words in my mouth,
spoke in languages I did not know
Then you expected me to give an answer.
He does what he is told,
He never asks to buy stuff,
He comes home on time,
He's the perfect son, whilst I'm the wretched girl.
He got an award in school,
He obeys most the rules,
He was your darling, your only male heir,
the perfect prince, I'm the wretched daugther.
He makes you both laugh,
He never made you cry,
He enjoys being with you both,
The perfect boy, I'm the wretched daugther.
I have never gotten an award,
always staying out laye,
seldom do my homework,
and defied most rules.
I have seldom made you both laugh,
usually she ends up in tears,
I guess that was the past, though.
But my shadow is creeping up,
overlapping, consuming.
I'm becoming the wretched daugther once more.
I don't know chinese,
I'm not pretty.
I don't seem very nice,
I think I'm kind of boring.
I always spend your money,
I always keep my room untidy,
I'm always crying, crying crying.
Cause now I'm the wretched girl, standing in the rain.
You both embrace your son, I watch, from the outside.
Love,
Zoie Esther
