Bastard
I remember ever since I was a
kid being called bastard.
The mention of the words
seems to be followed by giggles
and laughter.
Seems to be relived at the
beginning of every chapter.
But it I shouldn't be amazed.
For seems to be a joking trend
amongst friends these days.
Imprinting a label on me that
can't ever be erased.
But do you hear me laughing
better yet do you see me
smiling.
Where every time it's spoken
my identity becomes more
trifling.
Raised by a mother and
mentions of a ghostly man.
Never really was able to
understand.
Why I wasn't ever part of his
plan.
For these emotions use to eat
me up inside.
But I always was able to hide.
The feeling of abandonment,
pain and lies.
But you still call me bastard like
its a nice thing to do.
Not knowing how lucky you to
be raised by two.
My family is forever divided.
I searched but can't find him.
And I honestly don't want to
look no more.
But you call me bastard with
out ever seeing a grin on my
face.
Not realizing the pain it creates.
A word that is left with so much
hate.
Hopefully none you never have
to deal with a word bastard
creates.
Copyright © Robert Hanna | Year Posted 2012
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