I was a mistake; you didn't plan me.
Mother was 17, and Father 23;
she of fair skin and blue eyes, and he of black curly hair and olive skin.
Mother could not take care of me.
Father was a scorpion laying dormant.
On the day of my birth, I was given to those I now call "Mom" and "Dad" –
my forever home –
given away like a prize to be won.
I did not know your names, not until the age of 16.
And then I glimpsed Father's demons, and Mother's other life, her other children.
How dare you?!
How dare you keep this information from me, Mom!?
I could have known Mother's name!
I could have slept with the blanket gifted to me by Grandmother!
Such sacred information purposefully ignored!
Though, Mom, you meant well, as I know you did, you did not spare me any pain –
'twas inevitable.
Mother, I imagined your face for so many years, wondering if you remembered or even thought of me.
Father, I knew so little about you that I did not care nor think about you...
that is, until I was 18, and at last I could breathe and think and wonder – about the parents I'd never have.
Your past was kept from me, Father, though I knew not why,
not until That Day, when I met your demons and delved into the darkness that is your soul:
your acts so vile I dare not let them escape my tongue;
your past so tortured I almost pity you;
your ignorance of my existence (that was not supposed to be);
your pain recycled onto others again and again...
I saw your face in a photograph, and it was then that I realized we are kin,
for I have your hair, your eyes, your skin.
Do I have your demons, too? Have I inherited them from you?
Is my soul now tortured because of the evil you committed?
Do I suffer for the sins of my Father?
