Feelings are left behind,
Thoughts are
s
t
a
g
g
e
r
i
n
g
Fears are becoming visible
Hopes are becoming
distant
Everything that’s needed
and wanted
Everything that’s loved
and wished for
Everything that is “theirs”
Seems to be
Misplaced
Understanding has left
for awhile.
Miscommunication has taken
it’s place.
The confused have come to see the
results.
These good thoughts are being
Taken over by
discomfort and loneliness
Distance has settled.
There is no
“me and you.”
There is no
“I or team.”
All there is seclusion.
What was wanted is now
l o s t
And what was unwanted
is found.
There is no middle
ground
There is no
compromise
“My way or the highway.”
The wishing well is
dried
The dreams are missing,
Kidnapped by the
Immorals.
No new ways,
No new hopes,
Keeping
past regrets
as the
future
following it as
if it were the Bible.
Hate is no longer in the
Vocabulary, aversion is now there
Wishing for hope and
Love in
all the wrong places,
But even there,
They will not come
Discomfort
dislike
Feelings become
callous.
Seeing the end
feeling the end
Numbed entirely
Letting
go…….
I know this is... abstract. That is the point. :] This is a poem that really hits home for me. More though than most. I wrote this poem about two years ago. When I first wrote it, I didn't really know what I was writing about. I let the words flow out like I was just the medium for the words to come out. But when I went back and read it, I realized what this was about. All these struggles I had been having and sadness I had been feeling, where from my father. The story of my dad is a long one. One that hurts to tell. I know this account is meant to be for poetry, but I feel this poem would be a better one if you knew the background.
I was born to a teenage family. My mom was only 16, my dad 18. I was a total surprise, but one my mom was willing to keep. She felt I was her responsibility and swore to take care of me. My dad on the other hand was a teenage boy, what else can I say? He said he would be there and yes later on he was. But that first year, I lived without a father. When my dad came back into my life at the age of 1 and 1/2, I fell in love. My dad was my hero. As I got older, with each day forgetting he was never there, I began to follow everything he did. He would take his shirt off? It was quickly followed by me doing so too. My dad didn't care. I was five and the signs of womanhood were way off in the future. When my dad spit, it was quickly followed by my measly attempt at doing the same. He was the man I looked up to. I remember telling him, only to impress him, that pink was sissys. I remember, just to look so much stronger in his eyes, I wouldn't cry at the pain my fingers felt from being ran over by soccer cleats in the middle of a game. It was the only game I could remember him going to and I had to be that tough little girl. I was and still am that tomboy at heart. I sit like a guy out of habit, with my legs spread apart. My mom still has to get after me when I am wearing a skirt or a dress. A habit that is hard to erase because of all the years I tried to be just like him.
Thirteen is when I remember everything changing. The day of, I think. My dad began to get after me. And for every little thing. I remember one night, I had a sandwich for dinner. There were two pieces of ham left. I, trying to be the overly considerate person I am, left one, thinking maybe someone else would want a piece so they could make a sandwich. So I left it, ate my one piece of ham sandwich, and watched some christmas movie. Then my dad found out. He came downstairs and asked me what I had for dinner. "A sandwich" I said kinda distracted. And then he went off. He told me not to leave just one piece of ham. Nobody could make a sandwich with one piece of ham. He asked me what I had been thinking. I explained to him, I thought maybe someone else would like a sandwich. Then he stormed off, telling me apparently I didn't know how to think. Once he left I started to cry. I am a very sensitive person and can tear up even when something very touching and happy happens. So of course I would cry when I was told I didn't know how to think. These times continued to happen. Our relationship began to get flaky. We were still close but not as close. I was a teenage. I wanted to be my own person and do cool things on my own. I didn't hang out with my parents as much. My mom completely understood. My dad on the other hand to offense to everything I did.
None of our arguments or mishaps didn't seem to break us. It was when I was sixteen. Those two years ago. He asked me what I wanted for my birthday. He could get me something big. Did I want a laptop, something I had wanted for so many years, or a drum set. I had been playing the drums to his guitar for a month or two and was getting the hang. I liked it, but how much I wasn't sure. But I wanted to please my dad. I wanted him to be proud of me. Something I felt he rarely was. He never told me and he always thought I would do bad, so it was a safe assumption in my mind. So I told him I wanted the drum set. It cost him a lot of money and for the first couple of months I played them, but then he began to get irritated easily when I didn't immediately get what he meant and I didn't like him making me feel like crap. So I stopped. I know I shouldn't have let me stop, but I didn't have a passion for it. Not like writing. Sure I loved music, but I loved listening to it and having it soothe me. Playing was a different story. I didn't have the desire to do it and if I am going to do something as the such, I need desire. So my will to continue was dying. It wasn't bringing my father and I closer nor did I have a passion. But my stopping tore us apart. We weren't the same. Sometimes we would go ends without talking and it hurt us both.
So I wrote this poem. Throwing out how I felt. How I couldn't handle it anymore. I tried so hard to let him know I was sorry but he would never take it. I remember I wrote him a letter and he thought it was BS. It was a heartfelt letter on how I wanted us to be closer. He didn't believe me. So I just broke down and cried. I cried as long and as hard as I could. I decided at this point, I didn't care if we were close again. I didn't need someone in my life who would never put belief in me or trust me. He thought I was a follower and was a bad kid, when I really was a great student, who never got in trouble (my records proof this) and I was no where close to a follower. I did things at my own beat, despite what people thought. It was tiring trying to prove to him I was great.
I guess that's what I tried to get out with this poem. I wrote it abstractly because that is what life is. Just a big abstract world. I hope you can get that. I hope you can understand the story behind it. I still struggle with my father. It's like a roller coaster with him. The only day I've seen him so proud of me was when I graduated. Even that day, he told me he didn't think I would graduate. The struggle with my dad has been hard. It still is. I dunno if the relationship will be fixed or what, but each day I still try and each day I still love him.
