My Donor

 

I cry thru my pen

Because it’s only what you are worth.

Free me of the bondage, the breakage of life

I tell you one thing and think another

Then put them both on paper

To elaborate where I will go next

You will never know cause you’re not me

Don’t know when this hole will close

That you left in my heart on my birth date.

Wasn’t there, neither when I said my first word.

I walked without holding your hand

So what difference does it make?

All I asked for is annual communication,

A card or two, or even a call once in awhile

Till this day, all I ever gotten from you was:

Excuses, Excuses, and more excuses

Damn that, I didn’t ask to be there

Although, if you didn’t donate your time and efforts

I wouldn’t be able to voice this agony

I have every time I see My Donor.