my face is what i'm insecure

about the most. mostly

because it's not really mine.

it's the morphing of one

father who was never there,

who was angry when i

confronted him about it,

and one more who died

too soon, a painful reminder

that you can't always be

everything you need to for

the people you care about

most. my mother was

beautiful and my father was

kind but things change. now

my father is a deadbeat dad

and my mother is six feet

under with the worms and

tree roots. so what does that

make my face? hollow. and

my identity is empty, until

i don't know when. maybe

until i can find some sense of

myself in the mirror instead

of seeing the people who

could never be there for me

instead.