My name is Cornelius Tapio Wood, but people call me Tao.

I have heterochromatic eyes
that contrast with my pale skin.
My brother says it's weird,
but I don't let the words sink in.
I don't mind the colour of my eyes,
they just help me see!
One's chocolate brown;
The other's nearly silver
they're both quite pretty to me.

Yes, I'm an albino can't you tell!?
If you can't, I'm sorry
There was no need to yell.

I have bright white hair and deathly pale skin, I like it. It makes me unique.

I don't fully understand what's wrong with me, no-one let's me know! Just lots of sad sighs from my mother; disappointed looks from my brother.

They took me to the therapist every week and I don't know why. She just talks at me, asking me, "How are you?" as if she cares...

But I answer. I answer with a, "I'm really good, thank you! How are you?" and she shakes her head like she doesn't believe me. Like it's the wrong answer. I never have found out the right one.

She never replies. She never tells me how she's doing. It's all about me. And I don't like that! I-I don't want the conversation to be one-sided, it must get boring for her... I do my best to answer all of her questions, yet she doesn't answer mine.

She always writes in that book and it confuses me.

Scribble
Scribble
Scribble
Scribble

Always at an uneven tempo,
Never the same amount of words...

I tried to tell my mother, and she says that's how it's supposed to be. I guess I have to get used to it- I am used to it.

I have an appointment every Thursday
4:30 to 5:00
If it's late, I start to cry
I DON'T KNOW WHY.
My mother gets...upset when I get upset.
She always shouts at me, she-
She's stopped loving me I think.

So now I've moved away; I still go to my appointments, but she doesn't take me. She told me that I had to move out. She 'couldn't handle me' anymore.

My brother didn't stick up for me...he looked away like always.

He doesn't go to therapy, he goes to school; he's really cool!
He's on the football team y'know?
And me, I always go to his matches.

But I don't think I will anymore,
Not after last time, I'm not so sure.
His team-mates laughed and me and taunted.
With their words, I'm always haunted.

I don't understand why people are so mean. But I guess I don't understand a lot of things.

"So Cornelius, how are you?"
"I'm really good thank you! How are you miss H!?"

She, once again, just sighs and writes,
with noticeable stretch marks,
In her pale blue tights.

She tells me her name once more
The same as the sign hanging on the yellow door.
"Miss Holmes to you, young man"
I smile and say okay.

One two three four.
I tap my wrist four times.
And soon enough,
It's time to go!

I-I have an obsession with the number four you see,
And I don't get what's wrong with that
It's just me.