There has always been excuse made for the behavior my father has displayed.
The mean spirited remarks at family gatherings, feelings hurt and egos bruised.
Everyday routines have turned into the **** of a joke
There is nothing you can do to stop it. He'll always be an *******.

There once was a time when I wanted a relationship with my father.
I used to try to find ways to communicate with him, in the plainest of ways.
I tried for years but . . .
Nothing ever worked, I failed every time.

Spending your childhood afraid of a parent and never feeling loved
It leaves you broken, and feeling unwanted.
There were times when I looked at the father/daughter relationships all around
Jealousy overcame me. I cried at night because my uncles were nicer, my grandfather was nicer.

Little did I realize back then as a child that things would work out.
I had father figures in my life, just not a father - I had many fathers.
My seven uncles would protect me from everyone and everything.
My grandfather would teach me to swim.
I would get a love of the outdoors from them.
I would learn to ride a bike, tie my shoe, mathematics, and self-defense.

My father is still a hateful, passive aggressive man.
Someone that no one truly wants to be around,
I think sometimes that even the TV anchors despise him -
Maybe they can hear him calling them names and yelling at them when they cant pronounce a word correctly.

Time has passed by, I'm in college now.
I'm a part of the International Honors Society.
I've made the Dean's List every semester.
My father has yet to acknowledge my accomplishments.

Somedays it hurts, others I could care less.
When I run into my uncles now, they see me two ways.
The girl they helped raise, and the woman I have become.
My uncles always greet me with a kiss hello and a compliment.
I know they're proud of me, that's what matters.

The man who is a seated statue in front of a big screen TV doesn't care
The men who showed me the world and continue to encourage me do.
I remind myself that I am more like them.
They are the ones who raised me.

Cheeks upon faces I fail to remember
By red walls that shimmer, set back in the dark
How trivial is laughter, how plain its acquaintance
When speech in itself fails to hit the true mark

I wish I were born as a small bit of plaster
That I'd patch a hole in the side of your heart
To live as a part of you for ever after
And grow old and die without drifting apart

His hands speak louder
than his large black lips,
its ironic signing that gives him
a swift slick reflection,
like he’s grabbing you by the face
calling you baby I barely know you,
but you smoke faster than you click
and so if you just eye me steady,
id let you cry a thousand and one times faster than Jesus, baby listen,
you wrote my luxury when you walked in with that cherry smile
gleaming apple wishes in dimple mirrors – ****
I’m so glad there was never a split fragment between our lifelines,
crossing blue drapery like the high clothes hanging in ***** New York alley ways.
So you just realize everything brings color when you remind yourself,
you're young and if I could hear the sound of youth, I would
for the rest of my water-balloon life.