If your dad is cheating on your mom clap your hands
'thump thump'
if you have a problem with self harm clap your hands
'thump thump'
if your mother hates you clap your hands
'thump thump'
if you cant control your addictions clap your hands
'thump thump'
if you are a academic loser clap your hands
'thump thump'
if you wanna end it clap your hands
'thump thump'

In July of 2013, you died and you went to Heaven.
If you hadn't died, today you would've turned 77.
After taking chemotherapy for months, you died.
You were a good provider and that can't be denied.
When a parent dies, it's always tragic and very sad.
If you were still alive, I'd say "Happy Birthday, Dad".

I want
Younger me
To see me Succeed
in our dream.
That is what my answer should be,
But instead its
I have to make my father proud
Of me.
I want to hear those words slip from his mouth
That he is proud.
I strive
with everything I do in life,
From the pen that I write
To steps I take.
Everyday,
My goal is to hear him say
He is proud.
That is all I want in the end.
All my hard work
My grades
My life
Down to the outfits,
I want it from his lips,
His mouth
to speak,
I AM PROUD.

Did you really have to change,
the moment I turned 11?

How the days we'd spend together,
suddenly turned into trying
to ignore each other
and screaming in the kitchen?

Maybe one day,
you'd see what I feel
and what I tried to convey.

How I drowned in my own thoughts
as a mere child,
while you were busy
fighting with mom,
or scrolling on the endless feed
your phone provides,
which hopes you rot.

I guess it wasn't for me to speak,
to tell you what it really meant
to raise someone,
or how to love properly.

But could I really blame you,
if that was all you'd seen as a kid?
passing on the poison given to you
that deepened the scars,
causing your unhealed wounds to bleed out,
while you knew nothing on what to do with it.

I didn't wish for anything grand
or the materialistic things
you ask me to be grateful for
I just needed you to understand.

To listen to me talk
about my day,
or ask me why I was upset
instead of yelling at me
to stop looking so annoyed and grey,
every waking moment.

You always make a point
to ask me why I changed,
from the sweet little girl you knew,
to whatever I've become now.
perhaps, did you ever stop to think--
why?

if you don't want a child
to grow up,
and become someone
what reason is there to raise it at all?

I suppose,
at one point in life
I'll learn to forgive you.

But all that comfort I yearned
and still do most of the time,
has yet to be returned.

It waits in the silent, dark place
between your anger and mine.

well, Dad,
did you really have to change?

This gaping hole that cannot be filled,
A father's love I have never known,
An undying yearning, seemingly instilled.

I'm like a child, with tears being spilled,
Crying for that bond, that love of my own,
This gaping hole that cannot be filled.

The promise of protection, never unfulfilled,
Someone to remind me I'll never be alone,
An undying yearning, seemingly instilled.

What if he was here, had never been killed?
Would he speak with a loving tone?
This gaping hole that cannot be filled.

To be wrapped in his arms is my will,
This hope hurts my heart, my every bone.
This gaping hole that cannot be filled,
An undying yearning, seemingly instilled