Tonight I lay on my bed,
replaying what my parents said.
From my Dad-
"Damn, just your face makes me sad,
why couldnt you play sports,
rather than writ epeotry of sorts,
so, its hard to be proud,
when your existance runs me into the ground."
From my mom-
"your the reason I cant be calm,
your a cheerleader,
does that make you a dick-eater?
why couldnt I have had a son,
that strived to be the toughest one?"
To them both.
"Just because I am a poet,
doesnt mean, I cannot show it,
call me gay,
Ill be okay,
and I am tough,
my words are enough,
Im sorry I cant make you proud,
but Ill try until I'm in the ground.