when i found out you were going to be a father,
everything inside me went flat and grey and
i spent the next five minutes remembering how to breathe.
it shouldn't have surprised me,
but i guess something in me just hoped
that no one would ever choose to procreate with you.
lord knows i wouldn't even trust you with a cat.

when i found out you were going to be a father,
some dark heavy seed plunked into my chest
and sank straight to the bottom.
i saw the announcement and immediately
i could taste in the back of my throat
the way you called me baby,
acidic and cloying and sticky.
it burned hot and sharp through my lungs
like every word of every promise i remember you forgetting.
the news hit me with a power you yourself have not had in years.

you are going to be a father,
and since the moment i found out,
i have been whispering desperate prayers to the universe
that you never have a little girl.
i think about your greedy hands brushing curls
from some soft little angel face,
and i feel sick.
i think about you picking up her pretty little-girl things,
little socks and bows and shoes and toys,
and it takes everything in me just to sit here and breathe.
will you sing her the songs i used to sing you
in my own pretty little-girl voice?
will you hear me in her cheeky turns of phrase
or when she cries into her pillow
late at night when she thinks you're asleep?
what if she's precocious,
like me?
what if her prepubescent body starts to carve itself
into the shape of a woman's?
will it be easier to remember that a child is still a child
when you watched her grow yourself?
if she picks out tight shirts and short skirts
and paints her eyes dark and her lips red,
and she walks and talks and moves like a woman,
will you remember that she is not?
maybe if she is your daughter,
it will be different,
but then again i think being your anything
can never be anything but trouble for a little girl.
i should know.

i hope more than anything that you never have a daughter,
because i know if you do,
i will never stop wondering.
i know that the questions will keep me awake at night
for the rest of my life.
i will will never stop worrying that it is
at least a little bit
my fault.

when i found out you were going to be a father,
i remembered
everything.

i made my way
i thought you'd come along
i just thought you could

you have your way
it's screaming in every path
i heard you say
...we had nothing to keep

you don't have to blame me..i needed a horse to lift me away...a stallion to race me to here...before i could understand the true meaning of all your uncertain language

you just didn't care..

you always left a note..showing a different way you understood us..

we are sometimes lucky enough to know people who illuminate our skies like the northern lights

we appreciate them even when we don't show it
and love them even with our fists slammed into the wall.

we do not have to be broken hearted.
we are so conditioned to believe that it is the people who love us that will hurt us most,
which in turn,
distorts our meaning of love into pain.

they say the only way to reverse this idea is to forgive, but
forgiveness is a tricky thing
and if we don't learn when to use it for others and when to use it for ourselves,
we will end up alone.

but people like me aren't afraid of being alone.

and you should know,
that i don't spare the lives of those who hurt me.
and even if you lay breathing tonight,
by morning,
you'll wish you were dead.

Oh ******* the net
******* the net
I'll never forget
the moment we met,
from the moment I met
the ******* the net
I haven't been out
and I haven't slept;

she posted a picture
I did the same
she looks like an angel
I look in pain
so I posted another
this time of my brother
she told me her mother
had noticed the change;

******* the net
******* the net
surprisingly didn't
seem all that upset
said it was the hair
but she didn't care
she used to be Claire
and now her name's Jeff;

oh, Jeff on the net
Jeff on the net
everything's changing
and hasn't stopped yet
I love you I love you
but you ought to know
my body is buried
and I am a ghost;

******* the net
Jeff on the net
love on the net
death on the net
uou never know quite
what might happen next
in an internet life;
it's anyone's guess.....


..

I was always told
You look just like your mom
And I always hating hearing that
Because it felt like it stole thunder over my identity
I was a selfish spoiled daughter for thinking that then
Because I’d give anything to be compared to her again.

She is so selfless, compassionate, and kind
In fact I can recall there was the one time
I called her in tears because I forgot my lunch
And without hesitation she threw on her cape
Super mom was ready to save the day.

And she flew so fast
Because every second that passed
Her little girl was still hungry
And to her, any feeling that wasn’t smiles and laughter was unacceptable.

And her giving kept going
Because in my brown bag lunch
She would leave a note
With enough X’s and O’s to play tic tack toe.

I am not my mother
But I care like she does
And I am not my father
But I speak with his wit
I am an only child
But I am not the only child
Who feels lonely from time to time.

In fact I can recall there was the one time
When I realized what it felt like to be out casted
At only age four
I was stricken to glasses
Thick wired frames with lens that were massive.

Between you and me
Something about glasses
Makes kids really mean
I was called four eyes among other things
I would shout:
“You’re the one who needs glasses”
I would plea:
“I only have two eyes, butthead
Clearly you can’t see!”

I can look back and laugh
Insults were less personal back in 3rd grade
Entering High School
Things drastically change
Name calling became tailor made
A bully’s personal game
An ego’s selfish gain.

Kids made sure to hit you hard and fast
Sometimes it hurt so bad
I would go home with whip lash
From being verbally bashed.

But my mom never saw me cry
I made sure to hold back the tears until I was home
And finally when alone,
Door shut and locked
I’d lie on my stomach
Face down on a pastel comforter
Bed being my only source of comfort
Sobs and tears would soak up the sheets
Salty drops representing defeat.

My father would gently knock on my door and ask
“Are you alright?”
I’d muster up the strength I had left
To force a smile and say, “I’ll be right out.”

Then I’d turn over and lie on my back
Watching the ceiling fan circle its arms around my room
The cool breeze soothed on my red face
Like aloe on a bad beach sun burn.

I’d turn on my side and sigh
Shifting my weight, and getting ready to stand
Be a man, like my dad always wanted.

My feet hit the cold floor and now it was time
To go out and fake it like I have before
Wishing the insults remained at eyes of four.

Anyone had your poem stolen by this freak?

http://hellopoetry.com/-****-you-poetry-computer/
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/****-you-poetry-computer-1969-/
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/****-you-poetry-computer/

Hope you done stealing poems.
Can you write poems?
You got a ***** loose and you need help.