Thank You, Father

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
An original poem, with much of the contents based on my personal experiences.

Submitted: September 27, 2018

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Submitted: September 27, 2018

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I guess I should be thanking you, father,
for all that you have granted me:
the mindset that always forces me to second guess my appearance,
a lifetime sentence of mental anguish,
no matter what I seemed to accomplish.
The lack of a role model I didn't really want,
but deep down desperately required.
Thanks to you, father,
I have grown familiar to know what it sounds like,
to hear my own sobs as I
laid in an empty room at night,
and undergo a phase of loneliness
when I don't act in my regularly scheduled weep.
The sound waves bounce off the four empty paper-thin walls,
returning and taking me for a round with Muhammad Ali,
landing mental blows in my face.
Pow. Pow.
Pow. Pow.
I appreciate you, father,
you allowed me to know the aroma of my own lifeblood,
as you physically walloped your colossal closed fist
across my pure and virtuous face.
Pow. 
Pow.
Pow.
Pow.

Thank you, father,
for the embarrassment you brought upon me,
as my first-grade teacher made a scene in front of all my classmates,
noticing streaks the shape of an adult man's hands
around my six-year-old throat.
You attacked me for years,
influencing so many tears,
you're the monster that resides beneath me under my bead,
and within my closed closet,
yet I cannot seem to let you go.
You willingly creep into my most classified personal moments,
and I'm not sure I could lose you in a crowd
if I tried.
Do you know what it's like,
having to grow up so very fast,
to have different feelings entirely,
because of my vastly diverse past?
Do you know what it's like, father,
to go day by day,
to survive on each breath
and slowly,
softly, 
drift
away?

Today, I forgive you, father,
because of you, 
I no longer feel pain,
I no longer have to perturb myself,
with the dilemmas of this world
that seemingly drove me insane.
And although it was my physical palm
that took the gun and pulled the trigger,
it was your constant undeserving castigation
that prevented me from becoming
anything bigger
than just another body in the ground.
With other lifeless carcasses all around.
Thank you, father.


© Copyright 2018 Andrew Patterson. All rights reserved.

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