Daddy, let me tell you,

     When I’m angry, I don’t mean half the things I say.

     But I’m not angry;

     I’m livid.

     And I mean every word of this.

Stifled, I’m “trifling”.

You keep on scrutinizing.

So belittling, I’m dying.

I’m so tired of the crying.

You tell me you sacrifice everything,

But that’s your job as a parent, don’t you think?

     You’re supposed to nurture, but I just get abuse.

     Flickering pictures in my head: razor or noose?

     It takes all I’ve got to hold back the sobs,

     But one tear falls.  I must be weaker than I thought.

To mock me shocking.

Completely mind-blocking.

I get it, you’re the parent.

     Guess that’s why my soul is rotting.

You can think what you want as you silence my voice.

I have to shut up, anyway, not like I have a choice.

I can wake up any morning to a series of threats,

Even on the way to school.  What haven’t I heard yet?

     Actually, I think I’d like for you to slap me.

     Would it matter to you?  Would that make you happy?

     Would you be a proud father if you knocked me to the ground?

     Does it satisfy you when you get in my face, all loud?

     Do you ever picture us as a bear and a rabbit,

     Or are you naturally a bully, simply out of habit?

Daddy, let me tell you,

     Saying school was “fine” used to be a lie

     When I got home.  Do you know why?

     I always hated school.  It was never any fun.

     And I thought that at home was where happiness had begun.

That’s not true anymore.  Now school is always great.

But by the end of the day, going home is what I hate.

I hate always seeing your grumpy, snarling face.

I’d love to get out of here, leave without a trace.

     So just let me tell you, I hope you’ve had your fun,

     With your greying beard and charred lungs.

     And I guess you say you’ll miss me once I move out,

     But to say I’ll miss you?  This I highly doubt.

Daddy, let me tell you,

     My patience is running out.