Estate

My father died
or changed but I
think that's the same thing

Because the man he was
still sits on my shoulders like a bruise

Why did he do this to me?
Why did he hand it over like it was anything that a child should hold? 
Why can't I put it down?

They said poetry would help they said the art would be an outlet but it isn't an outlet this doesn't feel good anymore it feels like resurrection it feels like a fracture it feels like the longest suicide note anyone has ever written and I can't put the pen down i can't stop screaming I keep feeling all this rage well up in me and I don't want it anymore but I can't give it to someone else it isn't fair
Copyright © | Year Posted 2024

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace