I’m not the girl they all wanted.

I’m not the daughter my mother wanted,
girly and sweet,
wearing pink and growing my hair,
reputation as charitable and fair,
likes everybody she meets.
I’m sorry I turned out wrong,
mother,
I’m sorry I prefer blue to pink,
that I dyed my hair black as ink,
I’m sorry.

I’m not the heir my father wanted,
strong and wise,
ready to fight and go off to war,
or at least train with a hammer or saw,
natural leader in his eyes.
I’m sorry I turned out wrong,
father,
I’m sorry my eyes won’t hold back from crying,
that I won’t go to war for fear of dying,
I’m sorry.

I’m not the stunner my grandmother wanted,
a model like her,
stopping hearts with big blue eyes,
grabbing attention of all the guys,
flicking long golden hair.
I’m sorry I turned out wrong,
nan,
I’m sorry I got my father’s thin lips,
that my bust isn’t big as my hips,
I’m sorry.

I’m not the girl you all wanted,
so I’m leaving tonight
in the hope you’ll be happy
without me.