deepundergroundpoetry.com

True Story 1

 
I was just throttled
by my own father.
 
He was driving my car,
we weren't going far but
running late and traffic was intense
and money had already been spent
to go kayaking
and he kept yak yak yaking
in ascending tones.
 
I really wanted to go home,
but our anger kept swelling
and escalated to yelling
and suddenly his hand was around my
throat.
 
It was brief, but intense
and in self-defense
I clawed at his face
my heart racing,
fear and anger raging
but mostly disbelief.
 
Over something so stupid
his screws finally loosened
and his mind finally lost
as well as any shred
of respect I may have ever held
for him.  
 
And to think,  
when he was on the brink
of self-destruction,
his own corruption and sin
bared on his skin  
for all to see
and everyone turning their backs on him
except me.
 
Just over a year ago,
I forsook my own sanity
and overlooked the gravity
of the situation at hand
and tried to understand
the depths of his disease
and even though I was displeased
and disgusted with what he'd done
I remained the only one
to support him despite his
mistakes.
 
I said my love was unconditional  
and I helped him through his transitional
crisis, understanding his vices
since they mirrored some of my own
though I'd never take it to that extreme.
I believed somehow he could be
redeemed.
 
More than a year of being his
codependent attendant,
building resentment
against his lack of repentance,
and the fact that, again,
I was parenting my own parent.
And where was he when I needed attention?
When I was depending on him
being present?
 
And after all I had done
my bridge, his only one,
he goes and burns it to the ground
in one resounding  
moment that has played
over and over in my head
for days  
replaying and escalating
and boiling at the edges
of my sanity.
 
He's always had a habit of ruining my life.
 
But this is the last straw
he better never call
or text or show his face
I'm working to erase him
from my life and my mind
I'm leaving him behind,
much like he did to me when I was young.
Something I should have done
a long time ago.
Written by harliequin
Published
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