Frustration build in the pit of my stomach,
Pooling up like white-hot rage,
I can't keep it inside,
I know I’ll crack if I do.
So instead I’ll write this poem,
and hope it never gets back to you.
Always stomping and storming around,
Claiming how pitiful your situation is,
Yet you take you shovel and dig deeper,
Just so that we will have to pull you out again.
Frustrated with all your crap,
All of your holier-than-thou attitude,
All of your 'I do so much' splendor,
Which is your way of getting us to do what you want.
A child, so small and innocent,
Shouldn't grow up thinking everything is their fault,
Shouldn't grow up, being coerced and guilted
Into doing your dirty work while you sit,
On your throne and laugh at your servants.
They say you can't help it, that you are trying,
But after trying all this time,
Why is there no progress?
A child, small and young, only around six,
Should not have to cover their ears from the screams,
Should not have to cover their eyes from the bad,
The smoke that fills your lungs and fills my eyes,
Tears fall, late at night, when no one knows but God,
No one knows, no one will know, ever know,
Who I am, and why my hands shake as I write this,
With tears in my eyes, I’m not asking for attention,
But surely, tell me it isn't my fault?
That he left her? I didn't do anything wrong?
When I was too little to under stand daddy wasn't coming back.
Surely I didn't make this happen, surely...
I shouldn't have to cover my eyes,
As you trip and tumble around, drink on your breath,
I shouldn't have to cover my ears,
As you scream at me again that I am selfish,
I don't try to be, I promise I don't,
I don't know what to do anymore,
If all I do is wrong, all I do is hurt,
How can I fix myself?
When the only person who sees the cracks,
Is you?
