I’m done with sitting around
waiting for life to guide me
through a meaningless existence
as if things just happen.
hoping for problems to work
themselves out, regressing
to the safety and comfort
of nothingness,
doing nothing,
being nothing,

options have plagued the world,
so vast and unattainable that you’re
overwhelmed by choice,
disadvantaged by practicality.
expectations appear formidable
until you realise that most
lead a nine to five life,
hypnotised by the norm,
the mundanity is too much.

how do you begin to transform
a life that is settled in its routine?
to chance and hope without a
tangible end goal

then one day you realise
your meaning in life.
individual,
unique,
so precious and perfect
you must savour it,
cherish it. delve into
the world of possibility.

not everything works out.
truly there is no overarching
meaning to existence
but when you find your own
as different and quirky as it may be,
embrace its madness and
then you will be free.

servants to society they roam
with blank, controlled minds,
meaningless obsessions fuelled
by selfish desires, unkind.

grandiose, pointless gestures
declaring nothing,
self-importance derived
from insistent buzzing.

absorbed by devices
holding existence hostage,
vacant stares, virtual prison,
lack of interest and knowledge.

Protected by the guise of
communication,
slowly ripping society
from its very foundation.

engrossed by nothing that matters,
materialism, image,
being flattered,

pretentious clones, lifestyle fictitious
there’s always a bigger picture,
but they’re preoccupied, pernicious.

disadvantaged by modern living,
people can be untrustworthy,
people are unforgiving,

misleading technology,
cruel traits heightened,
an entire race
believing we are enlightened.

how am I expected to love one,
without even considering the other,
pretend you’re not important, a no-one,
you’re my father and she is my mother.

I know that what you did wasn’t right
you had a wife, two daughters,
yet you did it despite.
a phycological game, I hope never a fight.
why did you run away
at the stoke of midnight?

you did the unthinkable
now to save your conscience,
your memories are all fictional,
your actions towards my mother
are far from forgivable.
you tore through her confidence
forever feeling she is invisible.
alone with two young daughters
those years for her were miserable,
yet you still believe you were a father
your parenting was mythical.

not to say that your life has been kind
you fought in a war,
lost a friend in the blink of an eye.
PTSD forever haunting your soul,
you knock back a box of wine,
few beers before your midday stroll,
self medicating your entire life
to stave off those memories
and what you did to your wife.

it goes deeper than that I am sure,
a lifetime of damage
that you have had to endure,
that is why I see a man
who deserves my attention
because I do not turn my back
on another human needing an intervention.

I understand why most don’t agree,
you were a monster, a controller
my mother drowning in the dead sea.
you’re arrogant and unpleasant
but you truly care about me.
underneath your exterior layer
I believe there to be,
a man gently crying
sheltering behind the carefree.


I am trying my best to be more honest
so I don’t live out my life after my father
whose lying is spectacularly flawless
so I do not see why I should lie to you
I want a relationship because
I am scared of what you might do
a vulnerable man, I am too empathetic
I feel sorry for you,
it is not purely genetic.

it’s a sad circumstance
for a woman of my age
trying to break through her father’s exterior
and enter an unexplored cage
to break free the humanity that I believe is left
and release you from the uncertainty
what you are heading towards is death.