Family Reunion

I’ve been stumbling around my room for the last half hour
trying to find something to wear, as though by that very choice
they won’t look at me and see me as I really was
back when I was still slitting my wrists for a living  
 
I’ve gone foetal with regression. In one hour I’ll be a child again  
rambling like I’ve got a stutter and have been locked in a cupboard
for 3 days. Nothing real will exit via my voice box  
and when they leave I’ll beat myself up for failing to control  
that social retarded-ness I’ve never quite managed to remedy  
 
And it doesn’t matter that I can’t stand them  
it doesn’t change that deep down their opinions count
though I’ll never change who I am or be who they want  
cause I still secretly like my one-finger-salute mentality  
 
Though maybe I should be practicing my smile  
in readiness for the pretentious outing to the realms of some reality
that isn’t mine, ‘cause “no one likes an emo face”  with a bitten tongue
that will fail to tell the truth anyway, because truth isn’t the currency  
we deal in
 
© Indie Adams 2012