I am your daughter right?
And the little person in the next room that’s your son right?
I mean he looks like you, act like you, so he must come from you.
I have your nose, eyebrows, and eyes.
So we must come from you.
But it seems like you think of us as these kids that just come over and play.
But it seems like you think of them like they are special.
You act like we are just these dummies that you have to talk slow to.
I mean we call you dad, but it seems like we should call you by your first name.
Just tell me am I your daughter and are they your sons?
You talk but all that comes out of your mouth is disappointment.
I try to sing for you.
He tries to dance for you, but all you hear are words and all you see are movements.
We call and you just hit decline.
We text and you just hit delete.
But I know you loves us but doesn’t care.
What people don’t realize is that there is a big difference between the two.
You have a son, my older brother and all you have to do is show him that you love him.
But all he wants is the best for you.
You know what, maybe I’m crazy for writing this.
But maybe I’m even crazier for thinking if some how you here this you will act different.
We will make it without you; I mean you already did your part, you gave her the sperm and left.
I mean that’s what it feels like.
When you see us on TV or read in the papers about how we changed the world, years or hours
from now.
But whenever it is you will see, or read and realize that we made it.
So tell me, am I your daughter and are these wonderful boys your sons?