When it comes to you,
I don’t know how to feel—
‘cause you’re my father,
and I love you,
but ****, you put me through hell.

I know they say
you’re supposed to heal
my first heartbreak,
but ****, you broke my heart yourself.

You hurt me,
then he hurt me,
so I had to fix me by myself.

I know you try—
and you’re trying really hard—
but that won’t fix
all the lonely nights,
crying in the dark,
all the unspoken words
from arguments that went too far.

Sometimes all I can think about
is those nights in the dark
and how you were my dad,
but yet you still broke my heart.

And for that, I thank you
for showing me all the things
as a parent that I never want to do.

And as I write this,
my heart bleeds for you
‘cause I don’t know
what path I wanna take with you.

And there’s no ending,
because our story really isn’t through—
but I hope that if you hear this,
you know, I love you.

Driving down the highway
Stormclouds
have turned to rain.

Droplets
splatter
against the paine.
Streams of possibility
Gliding over the horizon

I stick my hand out.
It returns dry.
The feeling,
I’m perplexed.

No rain, graces
my palm. I was taken

back to when my
old man failed to show up
or would slide
away just as suddenly

as he appeared.
The sense that something.
was off started to rise
then disappeared in a flash.

A big wet one
hit my palm.

I know my father.
A man never abandoned
always forgiven
never asked to carry a weight that bent his back.

A boy who never chased a dream
never felt the hunger that keeps you awake at night.
Life was gentle with him.
When storms came,
he didn’t have to run home,
home was already warm
waiting
unchanged.

As a child, he was loved
and never lost the things he loved.

But life shifted when he had a daughter.
The ground hardened beneath his feet.
He wished then that he had built something stronger,
worked harder while the clock was still his.

Maybe that’s why his voice became stone.
Why did his love feel like punishment.
Why did he tell me things a father should never speak aloud —
told me I should just die
if I couldn’t carry the weight,
told me to walk away
if I couldn’t win the fight.

How could he carve wounds into my skin
when his own had never been cut?

He was once like me,
but fate wrote him a softer story
and now he writes mine with sharper ink.

Father.
Your here.
But yet too far to reach.
You hang on to me like a leech.
draining me of my smiles.
I could tell you the total amount of floor tiles.
Since the floor is all I look at,
when I'm being lectured by you.
Each scar caused by you.
Every drop of blood I lost.
was from every line you crossed.
You always said you'd do no harm.
But every time you said,
"are you done crying like a *****"
Was another tally carved in my arm.
When we're together the silence gets thick.
Like the smoke from your cigarette stick.
But I live in the silence.
Especially since,
The feeling of your hands around my throat.
Still lingers from the time you had my neck in your hold,
and I nearly passed out from being choked.
But I guess it's fine now.
Since you put my trauma in a pretty nightgown.
You say I'm always overreacting.
And that I have a future in acting.
But your wrong.
I have a future in acting,
On my emotion.
Acting on compulsion.
You raised me this way.
Don't get scared now that,
I have **** to say.
You say family never wavers,
Never shakes.
That's of course until the glass breaks.
But yes, lets fix this.
For god's sake.
Let fix this just for it to fall again.
Just to watch you cry to God,
while I say amen.
You don't want to acknowledge my mental health.
You think you can handle it yourself.
But I need more help than you can give.
All your doing is draining the life,
I want to live.
But of course, you never see that.
You never think "hey maybe he's broken"
Let me get him the help he needs to fix that.
But you know what.
I don't want help.
I want you to look at what you've created.
Look at the boy YOU overweighted.
Look at all the blood I've spilt in your name.
I'm writing this to give you all the love and fame.
For breaking me until I was no longer sane.
Enjoy the fame.
I will watch while I bleed out in your name.
So, thank you for the pain.

Turned around, fleeing,
I run from conflict
instead of facing it—
a coward’s path
born from a father’s shadow,
steeped in generational abuse.
A cycle vicious
as a violent thunderstorm,
striking bolts from the heavens
in divine judgment,
scorching my soul
as if branded like cattle.
A coat of arms
twisted and contorted,
misrepresenting values
held in the present,
yet fully defined
in a past no longer recognizable
to the progeny
who is tired of running
from Daddy’s failings.

No, it is time
to alter course,
to charge headlong
into the unknown abyss
where a different fear
lies in wait—
the dread of becoming
a carbon copy of his failings,
their venom lurking
like a stalking predator,
starving and salivating
at the thought
of a fresh meal
of unsuspecting me,
tripping into the pit,
unprepared to face demons
and rewrite history,
to forge a new heritage
unblemished by cowardice,
to rebuild a coat
that accurately depicts
who I have become
while freed from the bane
of paternity’s weaknesses,
that led to his son’s pain.

I stand up,
pushing back against the dark,
my light radiant
like the summer sun at noon,
casting glare
over the shadows,
causing them to flee
in a terror once my own,
no longer to darken
the soul of a good man
seeing beauty
in all things—
a revelation
that I too can shine
if given time
to heal from past wounds,
whose blood-streaked tears,
now scabbed over
and healed,
leave only a faint scar
of what was,
a reminder to live
in the present
and build anew
the love lost
between father and son.

Your favorite flower, A rose
Your Favorite Color, Purple
I don’t know many of your favorites,
And I know I should.

Your favorite movies are scattered,
Your jokes are messy, but laughable.
Your humor is odd,
And your taste in food is somewhat chilling.

I’ll have Purple Roses on my back,
Because I’ll always know you have it.
You’ll always help me when I need it most.
And For that, I know and appreciate it.

I’ll always have yours, no matter the cause,
For you’re my Dad, and I’ll always love you so.
Purple roses on my right,
For you’ll always be Right by my side.
Your favorite quotes, Lined up, Side by Side.
No matter how long,
I have to sit in a chair, needles of ink,
Poking into me.

I’d do anything you ask,
Even if I’m forgetful,
So please Dad,
Always be by my side.

Your family is complicated,
And sometimes you make me mad,
But that’s okay, because I know,
I make you just as mad.

My life choices,
And the habits I’ve picked up,
Aren’t always good ones,
Lord knows you know.

But I know, I can always count on you.
To be Right by my side,
Your hand on my shoulder,
Pushing me through,
All the tough times,
Reassuring me, That you’re proud,
And You love me much.

That no matter what I do,
You’ll always be there.
That you’re so glad you had me,
And that You’ll never regret,
Marrying mom, no matter how crazy she was,
Because my sister and I, came out of it.

Purple roses, on my right shoulder,
Your favorite quotes, side by side.
May the force be with you,
Just like I know you’ll always be.
No matter where you are,
Or Where I might be.

I know I can call you,
And You’ll always pick up.
Because, You’ll always be there,
Right by my side.

I love you, Dad,
And I hope you know.
I’ll never forget,
Where you’ve gone, or where you’ve been.

Purple roses,
For your favorite flower,
And your favorite color.
Because you should know,
You’ll always be my favorite parent.

The one who showed me,
The meaning of unconditional love,
That no matter what I do,
You’ll always be right by my side.

I’m scared to move on,
And grow up,
Because I know deep down,
It means giving you up.
I only have one father,
And I don’t want to lose you.

So I’ll have your favorites,
Permanently inked, on my right shoulder.
Because that way,
You’ll always be right by my side.

You lived long,
And fought hard.
Purple roses, and blue skies.
Thunder clouds and crying eyes.

Your two daughters love you much,
Though yet, they say it little.
I wish you knew how much,
I need you.
No matter how old I get.

I’m not ready to lose you.
Please don’t forget.
For my father is you,
I’ll never be ready,
So please, don’t leave yet.

You’ve told us what we are to do,
When you pass on, whether it is up,
Or whether it is down.
You’re to become Ash.
And we’re to spread, you all across,
Some beautiful place.

Yet I’m so sure,
I’ll never truly let go, of even
Just a piece, of your soul.
Whether it be encapsulated ash,
Or maybe your cologne.
I’ll never forget
The love you gave.

So please,
For you’re my father,
And I’m not ready yet.
Please don’t let go,
Please keep awake,
Please, for I beg.
I’m not ready yet.

For you’re my father,
And I want to see you grow old,
I want to see, your hair go white,
And your bald spot grow.
I want you to see my white dress,
And walk me down the aisle.
I want you to see my future,
Wherever it may lead.

I want my father there.
So please, I’m not ready yet.
Don’t go.
Don’t speak of it.
Your health declines,
And that scares me so,
Please, Don’t go.

I’m not ready yet.
I’ll never be ready, I’m so sure.
I’ll keep a piece of you,
Forever more.
For you’re my father. And I love you so.
I may not say it much.
But I do very much.

I’ll never be ready, to see you go,
I’ll bury an empty casket,
Just so I have a place to go.
Whenever I need you around,
Please,
Dad,
I’m not ready yet.

You talk of your death,
Often still,
As if you’re preparing to go,
But I’m not ready yet.
And I can’t let you go.

Please, Father I beg.
I’m not ready yet.
So please, Just stay awhile,
And watch us grow.

By age ten her father had left

Gone to another land,

Fortune upon his lips

She cried for days,

She felt alone...

Bereft

●