deepundergroundpoetry.com
Proud
I very often feel like my parents aren’t proud of me.
Then, suddenly, something happened.
I made a painting for my father,
It was a dinosaur.
He said he loved it and that was that.
Yesterday while celebrating the 4th overheard him speaking to someone.
“He’s gonna start performing with his guitar!”
“Oh that’s great, he’s so talented.”
“He really is, did you see the painting he made me? It’s so cool!”
I stood there as still and quiet as I could,
I was so happy when I heard the pride and awe in his voice.
Then today, I sent a picture to our family group chat of the painting I made.
He sent back:
Dad:
Damn
Who is that?
Me:
Idk
Dad:
That looks like good
Fuck
Me:
Random person on google
Dad:
Man
That is crazy AF
The grief
Me:
That’s a good title for it
Dad:
Yea
Such a stupid string of messages,
So immature and nonchalant.
Does he know how much they mean to me?
Then, suddenly, something happened.
I made a painting for my father,
It was a dinosaur.
He said he loved it and that was that.
Yesterday while celebrating the 4th overheard him speaking to someone.
“He’s gonna start performing with his guitar!”
“Oh that’s great, he’s so talented.”
“He really is, did you see the painting he made me? It’s so cool!”
I stood there as still and quiet as I could,
I was so happy when I heard the pride and awe in his voice.
Then today, I sent a picture to our family group chat of the painting I made.
He sent back:
Dad:
Damn
Who is that?
Me:
Idk
Dad:
That looks like good
Fuck
Me:
Random person on google
Dad:
Man
That is crazy AF
The grief
Me:
That’s a good title for it
Dad:
Yea
Such a stupid string of messages,
So immature and nonchalant.
Does he know how much they mean to me?
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