please never tell me like father like son
every male role model i had
has killed someone once,
before or after i was born.
i didn't know. growing up
i had inherited a disposition for knife fights
i didn't have long arms, i had bulging veins
and frustrations.
but i loved to see my blood spurt,
my red mist is going to stain your teeth
breathe it all in while i writhe in pain.
wailing
dear daddy save me. show me compassion.
show me we're capable. or call me weak.
i dream of empathy through the light
of a lead pipe. use it to bruise me and
cave in my head.
learning my father has killed people was difficult, but he is quite lovely really.