There's a part missing in a person when their dad's not there.
A part that even though you hate them for choosing something or someone else over you repeatedly, you wish that they were proud of you and the things you've accomplished.
Then you look in the mirror and see them in your eyes it is your smile or just young in general, then you hate yourself and them again just as much as before because what was so wrong with you that you weren't worthy of being loved that way.
You were my father, my creator.
Why was I only your child when it was convenient when I was easy to reach within contact?
Thats not a father.
Thats a distant relative.
An acquaintance you have for the sole purpose of what they can do for you and what you can do for them.
Thats not a father.
YOU ARE READING
It is but what we feel
شِعرThis is just some of the emotional work that I wrote while working on my current work in progress honestly it's quite personal to me there are just short poems of sorts I suppose but they were most certainly written with emotion. This isn't linked...
