What is the irony of not having to hear me yell everyday?
What is the reason for all my screaming and tornadoes and storms?
Why won't you be happy at the end of it all?
Would you be glad at the end of the fall?
What is the irony of not having to hear me say,
Say how angry I am at the day,
Say how frustrated I feel in the now,
Say all of these things to strike up a roe.
What is the irony of picking a fight,
Screaming and shouting almost every night?
If I make you mad, depressed and so sad,
What is the irony of having all that?
It's when I'm not there and no longer around,
That you'd miss my upset, my sad and my frown.
It's when all of the bad things are no longer there, not even my body or cell left to spare -
That you'll rage and you'll pour and beg for it all,
Even the worry, the tragic and scorn.
No matter the hate, the pain or the agony,
My annoyance was bliss and good when you had me.
The irony is that when I'm no longer there,
The silence will hurt and you will despair,
'Cause every moment that you could have listened,
You'll never remember so then come the questions.
The irony is you'll miss all the noise because that was better than my deathly poise.
The picture perfect of a sleeping beauty,
The real life ansampil of a child hood told story.
You'll miss all the moments of the moments you missed.
Regret all the times I couldn't have bliss.
You'll miss my anger because that's all you had.
You'll miss it all because at least I was there.
I'll leave you behind this unfinished sonnet,
poem or what that you wanted to call it.
Because the irony is that that's all you'll have,
When I'm dead and buried not feeling so sad.
(March 20, 2018)
