You abandoned me beneath a barren tree.
You left me without words, without direction.
And I waded through desertlands and valleys,
Sullied and exhausted, trying to follow and find
My own voice that you suppressed with the echoes
And when I found it and started to blossom
On my own, without the pseudo comfort of your body
And home, you reappeared, greedy and alarmed, and
You tried to reap my laurels, clutch them, tear them off
My head, my name, and baptise them anew, establish them
As your own, suddenly I became your daughter.
Suddenly you claimed your territory, suddenly you displayed, not felt,
A sense of pride and projected it to the outside world and the fools
Believed you, all my hard work was your merit, by association.
Suddenly you wanted to be associated with me. Suddenly you
Called yourself my father. And everybody congratulated you
For my accomplishments, for what you moulded, and how,
Nobody ever asked questions, dug deeper, why we didn’t speak
The same language, nothing.
They just believed everything you said.
You never showed up for anything. For me. When I had nothing
You left me. When I did everything I could to have something
You would step right in and try to take it all away from me.
You couldn’t stand it. You wanted me deserted and barren.
But, father, I would grow so high that you would
Never be able to reach the crown of the tree that I planted myself.