To My Parents


First off, I will start off by saying I’m sorry
I don’t know if I actually am 
My brain says I ought to be but my heart disagrees
But I am convinced that if I don’t say these two syllables at least once, twice, forever
It will be the haunting soundtrack that plays every single night
Nights where I don’t miss you
Nights where I don’t kiss you 
Goodnight, but rather bad night because there hasn’t been a good night in a very long time, hasn’t there
Should I apologize for that as well?
Should I apologize for the vacations that I forget, the holidays where I wish I was somewhere, (anywhere), else, but most of all for the memories that are not welcome in my heart?
The heart that is not a vacant motel with rooms housing pieces of you
I am not a piece of you
Genetics may say otherwise but look into my eyes and you will see an unfamiliar darkness 
Darkness is not an optical illusion
Do not make me into your optical illusion for this, these words, are pure honesty, a pure clean white that is not to be confused with who I am 
Because I am not clean, untainted
But rather uncertain as to what color remains after splashes of blue tears, slashes of red cuts, and an overwhelming black is added
That’s it, I’m a black hole
A black hole in a mirror that does not reflect you because black is black and nothing else
Black is your daughter
Black is your daughter’s heart drowning with sadness
But you cannot and will not be the life preserver that pulls her up out of the bitter thrashing ocean
For the ocean is her blanket 
How ironic
Weren't were supposed to be the ones to wrap a blanket around me?
Cocoon me with your comfort?
But no matter how hard you try to change it, to change me
I will always remain a forgettable ugly caterpillar stuck on the earth yearning to fly 
Never reaching its potential of transcending into a butterfly,
An epitome of grace and all the magnificence there could possibly be in this world
But the world is only as magnificent as we delude ourselves to believing it is
And so I am urging you now with every ounce of my soul
Do not believe in me because I sure as hell don’t
And I truly am sorry for not being your butterfly
Oops, there I go again
Another half-sorry, another half-truth
My world is a half-truth
But half-empty or half-full?
All I can tell you is that it is a half
Incomplete, insufficient, inadequate
But when will it ever be adequate?
Family is forever isn’t it?
Forever is a hell of a long time 


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