poem

by Ghanaperu

If I could change I would, 
if I could take back all the pain I would 
I’m tired 
of being a TCK.

Does that make me a traitor?

I’m tired of tracing my names
into walls to prove I was there, 
tired of learning faces and names 
that won’t remember me in a year, tired 
of swallowing down foreign languages 
and cultures and always 
setting myself aside. 
(Who even is 
myself? )

I’m tired of the goodbyes I never say, 
tired of walking lost in the crowd, tired
of being noticed and being different and 
sleeping in a different bed every month.
I’m tired of being the outsider and tired of 
pretending I’m not.
I’m tired of watching the road splay out 
behind me
and knowing it’s all that’s ahead, too.

I’m tired of being a TCK and I 
just wanna go home.
For a litle while?
Can I relax and breathe and be loved as
myself, be a permanent something?

But the only homes I’ve ever known are
scattered across the globe, 
impossible
and my identity is carved into my soul,
undeniable

home is a lie
and belonging is a lie
and everything I’ve ever dreamed 
of is a lie and so I sing myself to sleep
with lies and pretend I believe them or maybe
I pretend I don’t – I can’t tell anymore and all I 
know is everyone I have ever met is a liar and I’ve 
been told too many lies to ever believe anything again
and – God! God, I’m tired of lying.

I went to church today and sat in a 
red plastic chair
while at the whiteboard in the corner
the TCKs clustered, markers bleeding onto
their hands while they all wrote their names
and I wanted to tell them
it doesn’t matter and it’s a lie you
were never here

I’m tired of being a TCK,
Tired of tracing my name into walls
to prove I existed
but mostly,
I’m tired of lying