„and, how was your day?"
my father asks me
after i had made my way
to our house.

„oh, it was fine",
i lie.
for i'd rather die
than think about
the comments that came out
a particular student's mouth
one more time.

my father keeps trying
to keep up a conversation
between me and him.

but i end up lying
because i have never come
to the realisation
that he is actually
interested in his daughter,
like normal parents are naturally.

he isn't my dad.
he never was.
and i believe
our story is quite sad.

he went a different way
than my mum did
before she knew about me.
but when my mum found out,
he didn't want to come back and stay.

he only ever
visited twice a year.
and never
did i once come here.

now he tries
to make it up to me.

but i see
that the thought
of raising a child
brings him down.
for i see it in his frown
every single day
when he things i'm looking away.

so i know
that deep down
he doesn't want me.
he wishes i would just go
and leave this town.

and no matter who
tries to talk to me,
i can't help wishing that, too.