There is this innocence we have as children.
This fundamental right
to believe in a world where anything is possible.
That our daddy's can scare away any boogeyman,
Hiding under our beds or in our closets.
That the world is full of possibilities,
and there is endless time
covered in romantic notions.
But as adults we are no longer fundamentally innocent.
We are patchworks.
Taped in some spots that come lose all the time.
And sewn together in other spots,
That don't come undone all so often.
But we are broken and glued back together,
more often then even we are willing to admit to ourselves.
We harbor resentment and bias,
creating our own worlds in which the boogeyman
is everyone.
and not a soul can save us from him.
The part of us that was so eager,
The part of us that believed in a world of endless possibility
Withers and rots.
Leaving just the acidic taste of lack luster life.
Endless, monotonous daily tasks.
Craving the days when the world didn't feel like
The inside of stove with the pilot burning but out.
We are no longer the innocent.
We are the patchwork creation of a life,
That hasn't always been forgiving.
We are what our children think can save them from anything.
We are the boogeyman killer
The demon vanquisher.
Patchwork and all we may not be innocent,
But we are strong.

It is like running a 2 year long marathon
In all types of weather.
To see the finish line coming up
And when you get there
For a moment there isn't anyone there.
The streets are bare.
It is dead silent.
And all the anticipation
Just vanishes.
No one is there to even see you finish.
But then the fog clears
And you realize there are people here.
They were just hidden behind
The fog.
The fog I can now say was grief.
Hitting the finish line
Without him here.
Was like reaching the end
And for a moment
I had to take the time to sit
With no one there
The silence his space that's now empty
The loneliness
The penance for his absence.
But,
Slowly that grief lifts
And I am reminded of everyone else,
Who is here today.

My insides
Vibrate as if my
Muscles have been turned into
A 5 foot 3 ***** on extreme.
And my mind is thrown
Back and forth inside my skull.
What do I do
If I failed?
What do I do
If everything I have ever wanted
Slips between my fingers like
Liquid sand.

Not a month goes by without
The reminder that my dad
Isn't here anymore.
Not a day goes by,
That I am not reminded
Of the fact that I am
In all essence of the word an orphan.
With no family to rely on.
Not a second goes by
That I am not reminded
Of the fact that you
Are gone and I still need you.
And it's not easy,
Figuring who I am now,
Without you.
Time doesn't pass unnoticed.
I am reminded of your absence
With every second you are gone.
Like a bad joke,
And I just don't get the punch line.

I often wonder what my life would have
Been like, had it started differently.
If I had a mother who adored me.
Gave me all the affection I wanted.
Protected me when I needed.
If I'd still be the same.
My tragic life of
Misfortune, neglect, pain,
Suffering, ****, abuse, and fear
Have shaped me
Created the girl that I am.
With a moral code so strong,
With standards about empathy and caring
So above standard.
I am reminded daily.
"Not everyone is like you.
Not everyone cares as strongly,
For so many as you do."

Would that girl be gone?
I believe the tragic life,
That i was given,
Was to create the woman that I am today.
And the outstanding and amazing
Father I was given,
Was to offset the mother I was denied.

And anyday of the week.
Any year in my life.
I'd take the life and father i was given,
Over a better life without him.
And without the woman that I became.

And it all went gray.
All the color in my life drained away.
The vibrancy in my words
Liquified and ran down the drains,
Of my life like tears.
My life became a black and white movie
With no sound.
A vestibule to my torment.
Then like a solar flare.
Blue awash my vision.
And slowly as it cleared there was you.
Blue in all your glory
In my world that had been gray for so long.
And the colors are slowly coming back.
In small solar flares at a time.
Glimpses of oranges, purples, and pinks.
But my favorite,
The vibrant life assuring ...
Green.

Who I was
"Before".
I'll never be her again.
I'll never run my fingers
Across her framed walls.
Never again will
The troubles of today,
Be tomorrows problem.
I'll never get to smell
The scent of lilac from
The nose of the girl I used to be.
I'll never hear the words,
"Love ya" from the ears of the girl,
That's used to be me.

The girl I was before
I don't know that girl anymore.