My ilk

How can I be of their blood?
We think so differently
They are too interested in my life
Something to lecture about always
They find fault with my profile pics,
My bedtime, my friends
They are suspicious of the classes I take
They mock or patronize me when I show my art
They tied me down to a house I didn’t want
(I couldn’t bring myself to leave and rent)
Always asking where I am
Don’t believe me when I say I’m at work,
I am – I unofficially set my own hours 
Telling me “Are you sure?” with warning tone
As if I was lying – Fuck you
Rather than lie, I choose not to tell them things
They accuse me of being secretive 
So what? It’s my right to privacy
Why I am not sleeping they ask?
That’s my business
I won’t say I’m writing
I’m not allowed to think for myself;
My beliefs should mimic their close minded ideas?
NO. I refuse.
They called me stubborn since little kid to shame me
Did they ever think that I wouldn’t listen because they were wrong?
And of course there was the fat shaming too 
They still uphold that it’s a good thing done for my benefit
How can these people be my kin?!
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2 thoughts on “My ilk

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