You

You left me when I was three,
because having a baby just wasn’t a big enough high for you,

But I still remember watching Spirit, in our trailer. Me on the floor, my sister next door, and you on the couch. 

And I still remember you stopping at the gas station to give us candy ropes, covered in nerds, 

And I still remember those little
fish stickers on the side of the tub, because those were the only reason I would get in, because I was afraid of drowning, 

But more importantly I was afraid of him, 
 Because he burned my sister,
broke her nose, and made her cry,

Because, she was older than me, and for some reason he thought she could  take it, but she was only five, you see. 

And well what about me?

I wish it were me, because then she would never have left me. 

But  now I’m sixteen and a beauty queen, and I still think I’m unworthy. Because you never wanted me,

But now I see that you were the one that was unworthy of me.