Growing up, I never found that one
person who I could call Dad,
My biological father was impalpable
due to his issues, my mother left him
she was always such a strong woman
with a hard exterior, and tender insides
always giving, in fact too giving at times
She was a woman who knew what she wanted
and out of love for me and herself, never settled
By the time I was seven or eight,
I had a step-father, whom for a while I did hate
their marriage stood strong, wouldn't end upon my whim
consequently, I learned to put up with him
eventually learned to love him, flaws and all
(and trust me, there were many, Ya'll!)
Still I could never call him Dad
that just isn't the relationship we had
believe me, it was not for lack of wanting it
like parallel lines, we abided and never quite connected
I'd pour out my sorrows, and he never understood.
I'd express my ideals, and he always disagreed,
unless of course, I'd agreed with him
I always had to agree with him, or else the penalty
would be another argument, and of those we had plenty
he always demanded the utmost respect, but rarely gave me any
but all of this, is not to say that I don't love him
I'll tell you what I do not love: his overwhelming perfidy
his hypocrisy, two-faced lies that pushed my mother above the rim
Now he must leave, he has all but lost our affections
still, the nucleus of my being twists in separate directions
once he is gone, so is our bloodless conjunction
in comparison, kids of divorcees live in such satisfaction:
at least, what they lose was truly theirs
I am losing what I never had to begin with
If you ask me, that's worse tenfold
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I'd pour out my sorrows, and he never understood. I'd express my ideals, and he always disagreed, - at least, what they lose was truly theirs I am losing what I never had to begin with