Without

I am without. 
 
Without all of the usual things, 
the expected warm hug,
 the desired good praise. 

Without any set of traditional values,
 a sailors mouth took place of lady like manors.  

Without hand-me-down lullabies,
 or good eating habits,
 no picture book story to tell of the past. 

Without basic skills to properly vent,
 a complete lack of dreams to drive me forward in life.

Without documentation that you were once there, 
 to hold my hand in the dark, 
 to make me aware. 

Without credit to give you for the lessons I’ve learned,
 countless hours of television did that one for you.  

I guess I should thank you for material things,
 and cash money that measured the value of love.  

Alas, one more thing before I forget,
 you did teach me how to ride a bike, 
 that concept is clear. 
This one carries moreover one spare regret, 
 when I cried and screamed no! don’t let go, 
 like an obligation you almost appeared relived to release me, 
 then turned and mistook the moment for job well done.  

I am without reason to ever come back,
 when you let go I kept going, 
 and should not have looked back.  

Without motivation to give second chance.  

Without correct calculations to second chances wasted. 
 
These were my memories you tainted and soiled, 
 was it revenge of some sort, 
 what did I do.? 

I am without appreciation. 

Without good things to say. 

Without proper ability to show how I feel.

Without concern or care for consequences that I’ve earned. 

Without belief in myself that I am worthwhile. 



 For without a father, what does it matter.. .. .. ..”

angstchildhoodfathermemei do not know?

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