My sky
Is my skin
I can't seem to
climb out
of it.

Hands
I for one
Am one

Reading books from the dead is certainly fun.

Upside down pen.

Also my nan,
Best thing in my life
Made me honest
A stand up guy.

Remember the 80's
She was funky back then.

One sixteen
You had me
Two sixteens
You needed me
Three sixteens
And you were gone
When I almost
Found you
I lost you
Before I knew you
So long

To the woman I’ve never met,
but the woman who loves me.
Forced to let me travel to a foreign country;
I am still yet to shiver my way
through the never-ending river.

So to contemplate:
must I choose between the mother who loves me from afar,
and the mother who has come to love me now?

Soon I may change my name.
If I discover the surname meant for me and make it mine,
shall I feel part of the family?

Is this to imply that I prefer her bubble over the sea,
that was once my world?
Is my continuous discovery something to regret?
Of the current,
My name reflects both.

A dilemma only I can solve
But not in the form of a simple equation or formula.

All I have for you, dear mama is,
We are like parallel lines.
We will not meet anytime soon.
The dot that connects us is invisible
But real in my heart.

When we were younger and didn’t really know how the world worked, we heard the story of our parents going into a patch and choosing their baby.

I often tell my family that I went into a patch and choose them.

I often wonder about my own origin
I wonder how much of me is from just one woman
I also wonder if I am anything like the man
Does my DNA from her make me the good student I am
Does it explain my ever present sarcasm and attitude
I wonder if we have the same personality or mood
I wonder about my appearance and hers
Does her hair also fall down her back or shape her curves
Does it reflect in the same golden way that mine does
Does she also let hers grow too long just because

I know you from online
And from the few files I find
Is my height, or lack thereof, from you?
(After all, I'm only five foot two)
Do all my half siblings know of me, or just you?
Do you talk to my father? Does he want to meet too?

I meet you this week
17 years or 6,463 days
Not a moment too late
A reunion like an awkward first date
I was told to "expect nothing" from it
That I can easily call to just quit
But I know more everyday that I am ready
I want my family tree to be a little less webby

I want you to know I am not mad
I do not cry because I am sad
You are the reason I live the life I have
I cannot be more grateful for that

I understand the choice you made
That raising me was a price you had to pay
Your past is not something to regret
The questions I have are nothing to fret
You might fear the how's and why's
But they're the last thing on my mind
I just want to meet you for you
And to thank you for giving me the chance to live anew

I only saw four girls when I came to be,
I wish I saw a boy but the only boy was me,
A man showed up but not for long, he gave me up cause he was wrong,
My mom I love her but she left me to,
I need her more than my sisters do,
I hear people talk but the worst isn't true,
I know my mom loves me and I love her lots too,
Sometimes I remember when we smiled and play games,
I really need my mom's hugs No hugs are the same,
I cannot forget her for her love is the key,
God all I pray is one day mommy's with me!