Discussed Over Tea

And so it goes
as mom sipped her black tea
out of that circular teapot. And dad
looking so far away. Was he there?
Those dreaded words no son wants to hear
from their parents.
"Sam, we need to talk."
Those were words that needed no other explainations.
Just sitting there, listening to these worrysome words
flow out of their mouths, doing backflips in the air
and landing ever so gently in my ears.
"I think you need therapy."
I remember a pool forming underneath my eyes.
About time I show that I am human. Because lately,
I've been feeling like a robot to them. I've been
holding back. Especially from them. I've been
keeping it inside. Letting it boil and stew. Waiting for the hole in my stomach to expand.



I didn't accept
nor decline. I'm
indecisive. All I know
is that I used to be
happier.
All I know is that
I've been hiding from my parents
and most of my friends. And I'm tired
of being a ghost. Tired of being
afraid of what they think of me.


Sam