Maybe I overdid it
when I called my father an enemy of humanity.
He isn’t threatening to humanity,
so please don’t you worry. He’s the enemy
of my sanity. No, I don’t hate him
to the extent that I want to eliminate
him from my life. Just my toleration for his
judgments is wearing thin.
As I grew older he grew more
disappointed with me. It’s because of the tattoo
on my arm I got at eighteen and the late
hours he stays up waiting for me before I finally
come home. He’d constantly irritate me with his
remarks of how I’m still a child living
in a dreamworld.
I know the difference between dreams
and reality. I understand that once I finally grow
up I’ll have all these responsibilities.
So yes, maybe I do live in a dreamworld, but
it’s so much better than being near him.
In my dreamworld I feel the love I should feel
from my father. I don’t hate him, I just want him to
accept his daughter for the woman she’ll become.
He should be thankful that when I stay
out late at night that I’m not
at a drunken bash, but instead
at the coffee house sketching trees.
So no, my father isn’t the enemy,
at least I don’t want him to be.