I think it says a lot that I was relieved we weren't allowed visitors
I struggle with the idea of you caring when in the past you've done little to understand
I'm here for me
I know somehow you'll make it about you
I can make it about you all the same

How you'll never be satisfied with me
much less proud
this time spent will be marked in your memory in embarrassment or anger
you never like to show me off anyways
why else would your favorite picture of me be in black and grey?