(old poem from 2006)
I’m the girl who’s always late,
waiting at the bus stop
with everything I own strapped to my back.

And sometimes it rains.

I burn my fingers when I cook.
My yellow rice comes out orange and I put ketchup on everything.
Sometimes I pay my bills late.

Often I press ignore when my father calls,
and I always hope its someone else calling,
not you, Dad, because you didn’t love me when you should’ve.
I want someone who can.

I cry when I read sad stories
and laugh to myself when I think no one is watching.
Sometimes I foget myself and talk too much about sex.
I never say the right thing or laugh at the right time.
I don’t have the answer and I over react.
But once in a while I get it right.