I Am

I am
I am what
I am. I am a
Child, helpless
Not so independent
I am female, a
Weakness
If you ask
My dad.
If you ask others
I am silly, irrational
Unreasonable
Wrong.
I am Quiet
A little weird, I
will admit. I have a
lot to say But
I'm kind of
scared to
say it.
I am poor
Grew up in a
slum in the middle
of nowhere With a father
who told me plenty
what not to do
But left me
kind of
lost on what
I should do. So
I never spoke Guarded
from his criticism
I was so angry
All the time
Rage
At how things
should have been
My cynical father Who
saw it unecessary
to buy groceries
(Food bank
once
a month)
Bought cigarettes
and drank every day.
Still drinks, I am
just not there
to see it.
For years I did
not speak what you
and I would call English
instead I spoke
'Hick' I guess
I still kinda
do I find it pretty
funny that I learned
the difference between
'ain't' and 'isn't,' and 'good'
and 'well,' Learned to
Speak real English
In Tucson, Where
my dad said
he didn't
want me to
go because there
are too many Mexicans
(His words, not mine.) Here
I am, I am a nuisance, a
girl Estranged Not
Lost, well maybe
Just a little
Teeny
Tiny
Bit.