boom!

This is not a poem about my father.

 

 

I grew up hearing your voice at night

 

Cussing at people, us, especially your dad

 

You would never stop till its morning

 

You would go to work revived

 

I would go to school sleepy

 

With your words in my head

 

Tears in my eyes

 

And pain in my heart

 

 

 

At first I can’t understand you pain

 

Your hatred to your father

 

Until I felt it for you

 

In my heart I am blaming you too

 

Cussing and hating

 

I realized that maybe this is a cycle

 

And I am part of a chain

 

That I would grow up

 

Like the person that I most hated:

 

YOU

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