Sitting in the blue armchair,
on my dad's denim covered knee
his eyes crinkle in the corners
As he tells me I'm adopted.
Adoption is a frustrating word, 
that comes with mystery and confusion,
It makes me question myself,
As I ask who I am.
I know I’m from Coeur d’ Alene, 
A city full of potatoes.
But I live in Pittsburgh,
A city full of pride.
Another question always lingers: 
Should I meet my birth parents?
I grow tired of that question,
Because there is no good answer.
I don’t want to be disappointed, 
besides, I’m happy where I am.
I like my parents,
My family and my friends.
And I like that I'm different,
A word I've adopted.

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