MISBEGOTTEN
Today is the day
on purpose
I walk past
the seeds you tried to plant
on my infertile soil
Clean air fills my lungs
replacing the toxic pain
that you've choked me with
Years of non-existence
explain what words cannot
Your chances have expired
I don't recognize you; Just a foreign face
Your love is a farce
So, I'm taking my blood with me when I go
You can't have it anymore
Just sign your name
and I'm gone
Because you don't know how to love me
All you do is hurt me
and a name is only a name
Today is the day
on purpose
I walk
Today is the day
on purpose
I walk past
the seeds you tried to plant
on my infertile soil
Clean air fills my lungs
replacing the toxic pain
that you've choked me with
Years of non-existence
explain what words cannot
Your chances have expired
I don't recognize you; Just a foreign face
Your love is a farce
So, I'm taking my blood with me when I go
You can't have it anymore
Just sign your name
and I'm gone
Because you don't know how to love me
All you do is hurt me
and a name is only a name
Today is the day
on purpose
I walk
away from you
I wrote this poem about my father a while back. I know it is harsh, but rest assured.....I have moved forward to a place without bitterness. I'm aware that right now it doesn't make sense as to how I could write such a thing, but as my story unfolds, maybe it will. Don't get me wrong, I am still hurt, confused, and full of sorrow where my father is concerned, but not drenched in the anger. I have called the lack of relationship with him, "the most desperate feeling I know". More on this to come.
I felt it necessary to back up a bit to give a more descriptive back story. Even though I have touched on my estranged relationship with my father, I was general in my explanation.
My father was born to young mother. After only a year of marriage, my grandmother divorced my father's biological father. She quickly remarried the man that adopted and raised my father. However, my grandmother was married four times in her life, and was in the middle of her fourth divorce at the time of her death. When he was eighteen years old, he searched for his biological father whom he never knew, and after locating him, moved out-of-state to live with him. My father had always had a strained relationship with his own mother, I'm guessing due to watching her go through so many different men. I don't think he has ever forgiven her for what she put him through which has caused him to, I believe, have a vendetta against women.
I was raised in a very charismatic church growing up. My father was extremely hypocritical, legalistic, and judgmental.......Holier than thou, if you will. There was no room for grace......To him, everything was black or white. Instead of encouraging me with scriptures from the Bible, he would rather condemn me with them. I felt hopeless in this type of relationship; always falling short of what he wished I was. His love for me has always been conditional. He was never around except for the times that he could be seen.....The times when he could stick his chest out and be proud......When I made him proud..... Like when I won first place in my track meet, made cheerleader for the first time, was on the Homecoming Court, sang in church, scored the winning shots in basketball, and when he got to give me away in my first wedding. (Although, he was quite upset that I was wearing white, as he was adamant that I shouldn't be) At these times, he showed up for me with a smile on his face like the Cheshire Cat. Honestly, other than the times that I mentioned above, I really don't recall him being proud of me. I always felt like a complete disappointment to him.
My mother left my father for another man, ending their 20 year marriage. I'll get to that later, but it just adds to the reasons that my father has something against women.
I could go on, but the point is, women always let my father down.
And all of these are not counting what I contributed to that list as an adult, after graduating from high school. Trust me, as you'll see, I gave my father a plethora of reasons to be bitter towards women as time went by...........
I wrote this poem about my father a while back. I know it is harsh, but rest assured.....I have moved forward to a place without bitterness. I'm aware that right now it doesn't make sense as to how I could write such a thing, but as my story unfolds, maybe it will. Don't get me wrong, I am still hurt, confused, and full of sorrow where my father is concerned, but not drenched in the anger. I have called the lack of relationship with him, "the most desperate feeling I know". More on this to come.
I felt it necessary to back up a bit to give a more descriptive back story. Even though I have touched on my estranged relationship with my father, I was general in my explanation.
My father was born to young mother. After only a year of marriage, my grandmother divorced my father's biological father. She quickly remarried the man that adopted and raised my father. However, my grandmother was married four times in her life, and was in the middle of her fourth divorce at the time of her death. When he was eighteen years old, he searched for his biological father whom he never knew, and after locating him, moved out-of-state to live with him. My father had always had a strained relationship with his own mother, I'm guessing due to watching her go through so many different men. I don't think he has ever forgiven her for what she put him through which has caused him to, I believe, have a vendetta against women.
I was raised in a very charismatic church growing up. My father was extremely hypocritical, legalistic, and judgmental.......Holier than thou, if you will. There was no room for grace......To him, everything was black or white. Instead of encouraging me with scriptures from the Bible, he would rather condemn me with them. I felt hopeless in this type of relationship; always falling short of what he wished I was. His love for me has always been conditional. He was never around except for the times that he could be seen.....The times when he could stick his chest out and be proud......When I made him proud..... Like when I won first place in my track meet, made cheerleader for the first time, was on the Homecoming Court, sang in church, scored the winning shots in basketball, and when he got to give me away in my first wedding. (Although, he was quite upset that I was wearing white, as he was adamant that I shouldn't be) At these times, he showed up for me with a smile on his face like the Cheshire Cat. Honestly, other than the times that I mentioned above, I really don't recall him being proud of me. I always felt like a complete disappointment to him.
My mother left my father for another man, ending their 20 year marriage. I'll get to that later, but it just adds to the reasons that my father has something against women.
I could go on, but the point is, women always let my father down.
And all of these are not counting what I contributed to that list as an adult, after graduating from high school. Trust me, as you'll see, I gave my father a plethora of reasons to be bitter towards women as time went by...........
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