Wretch, By Birth
Most interestingly, every time I’m involved in, or connected to anything bad;
My mother most angrily exclaims, “You’re just like your wretched dad.”
This frustrates and confuses me; because I don’t even remember him;
How can we be so identical, when my memory of him is extremely dim?
I can’t even recall his features, his walks, his smile: absolutely not anything.
Mom remembers; she says I’m just like him; but, about him, she’s not talking.
”John, feed the animals,” ”Empty the garbage,” “Don’t be like your father.”
Oh lawd! Do I daily have to hear this commotion? Oh my beloved mother!
How could she possibly blame me for being like my wretched father, John?
How!?! How was I responsible for her miserably poor choice of a man?
I am a different human being; it’s only his image that she’s regrettably seeing.
Must any innocent child believe that their father is the worst human being?
If only; if I only knew him; I would most definitely have asked him why?
Why did he make me so wretched like him? I need to know his reply.
End
By: Dion Penville
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