I am not a child.

What part of "no longer eight" do you not understand?

I love you but sometimes you make me sick to the core; ill to the bone

it's not organic carrot puree; you can't forcefeed me any more

with ideals you claim you ground straight from the Bible.

if that's God I don't believe in Him

but that isn't God and I know it. You don't.

what part of "daughter, not autopsy blueprint" do you not understand?

This isn't the Spanish Inquisition. We're Asian. And you are not the thought police!!! who gives you/ what gives you/ (i certainly didn't) the right to think you can pull open the flap (right, left, this one needs stitching) of my tired torso and reach raw inside what holyman chutzpah do you claim to smear what salve that will save my soul?

i'm going to stop angsting now like a thirteen year old with too much eyeliner and xanga -time. you guys make me compromise my street credibility. must be the influence of all the MAGAZINES I'M READING, RIGHT, LOVES? because of course it's reading Style one day, and sex drugs and rock n' roll the night after! of course. we all learnt parenting from the Cosby Show.

have a little faith in me. I'm tired of fighting.

When will you learn, and what will it take, and what have i not tried yet that will finally make you see?