poetry

24

empty chair:

i called you “dad” in borrowed words,
a title you never earned,
for fathers are supposed to cradle dreams,
not leave them to be burned.

you were the ghost in my childhood,
a shadow that filled the room,
not with love, but with angers roar,
and a silence that felt like doom.

you raised your hand, not to comfort,
but to make me flinch and hide,
and i learned that pain was the only thing,
that brought you close to my side.

i remember the nights id wait for you,
hoping this time youd stay,
but the door would slam, and you’d disappear,
as i cried your name in vain.

id bring you pictures drawn with care,
hoping for a smile to see,
but your eyes were cold, your words were sharp,
as you tore them apart with glee.

i tried so hard to make you proud,
to be the child youd hold dear,
but all i found was an empty space,
where a fathers love should appear.

now i see you not as "dad,"
but as a man who broke me down,
a stranger who wore my last name,
and left me to drown.

for a father is more than blood and name,
hes the arms that hold you tight,
hes the voice that soothes the darkest fears,
and guides you towards the light.

but you, you were a storm in my life,
a chaos i couldn’t tame,
and i realize now that a fathers love,
is something you never claimed.

so ill build my strength from the ashes you left,
and learn to stand on my own,
for i deserve more than an empty chair,
and a heart that feels alone.