I look at the other bright dandelions
Happy and shining and with their expected father figures
My petals are wilted, down in shame and jealousy
It's obvious but I don't care
All of the flowers get pollinated by the upbringings of their fathers
But I am without
I am lacking the nature of a good dad
As time goes by, my pedals drop to the ground
Each time the wound is reopened, I lose a part of myself
I start to heal but have to see his face again
It restarts
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryThis is a book of poems that I am not completely done with. It's sad poems that have helped me get through some stuff. Writing is my therapy, I hope whoever reads it will like it but if they don't then that's ok because I didn't write it for you.
