How I Really Feel
To my father:
I do well with poetic phrases and flowery verse
What I don't do well is sharing my hurt.
If I've learned anything from you it's that smiling tough through the pain
Always gives the best result and gain.
As I looked through pictures to go with the flowery, love filled homage I wrote to you;
I was struck with such a sense of profound sadness, You are still alive, yet I mourn you,
Documented memories of times we shared are few.
I see fathers and daughters who talk or text each other every day,
the last message I got from you was on my birthday.
I see fathers who show interest in whatever their children do,
When I stop to see my mother and stay for a visit for a moment to visit with you;
I feel like I'm taking away from your time , I have to hurry up to go;
Even if you don't say so.
My perfunctory kiss is all you will take,
No hugs or affection, or I love you, make my heart ache.
I can't call you just to chat about nothing, I can't ask for advice,
When you do give me a compliment I have to think twice.
You don't tell me if I make you proud or glad
Superfluous, superficiality is all to be had.
Ill at ease I feel in the home I grew up in
There is no joy to be shared within.
Rejected, abandoned, angry, I feel as a child who is lost
Struggling to find my way and be loved at any cost.
I can't be what you want I'm not up to that task
Acceptance and unconditional love is all that I ask.
Copyright © Michelle Morningstar | Year Posted 2017
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