On this Father’s Day,
As I look at the reflection in my mirror,
My confident image poses uncomfortably.
Each year I’m reminded that I’m scarred.
And nothing can make up for being scarred.
I was just a living accessory to your hate – her.
And innocently guilty of what I knew – love.
Divorced parents – he walked and stayed absent.
A victim of love? Label me that too.
But I’m the wannabe architect of love,
Shared between a man and a woman,
With a hole in my soul
That bears your resemblance – Daddy.
So, I’ll just continue to suck it up, not fuck it up.
And learn to give and demand better – love.
Copyright 2010
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