Like Father, Like Son

My arm,
My leg,
My mental stability-
And my heart.
These are the things I've broken,

Before I could say any names of the women who've broken my last limb, I could never forget the person who's broken me first-
My father.

I mean as a kid from the hood, it's pretty natural to be fatherless.
It made me never settle for anything less.
Given only hand me downs as a reward for my missing shelter.

Hand me down apologies,
Hand me down kisses,
Hand me down love letters and missing approvals.
Getting shallow ended notes while trying to pinpoint the lines that you'd wish made me squeal.
As if being a father was the bitter end of a perfect deal.

Searching for affection through awes from pretty pitied filled broads and shallow claps in an open mic.
Getting flashbacks of bullies who'd knock me down and tell me to take a hike,
And chasing down a girl for 3 and half years who claimed our love was immoral-
As the only love she could give back was oral,
By saying I love you, and I'm sorry in repetition-
Like taking Advils when you're feeling ill.
For she only wanted to be friends but took the chance of making out with my best friends just to fill the empty hole for not having a perfect mother or a father,
Kissing every friend as a better ordeal,
As if Cupid have grabbed me by the heel,
And told me he had no arrows left to give.

For claiming I could never hurt her the way she did to me.
While I laid in bed wishing I could reclaim shelter from a parental figure who could have taught me that I'd be better off,
But instead I kissed her sister.

But don't bark at me mister!
I only learned what your path followed,
when ya tell a girl ya miss her.

Making love lives bittersweet,
Underneath the bed sheets-
And making revenge sound like a romantic melodrama.
But this is what happens when you miss a huge part of me.
So I moved on-

And the life of moving on wasn't so ideal.
Until I met a girl who I thought would allow my heart to heal.
Wasting 3 years on a person who'd think that the grass always seems greener on the other side.
And thought that her actions were always a problem she could run and hide.

Jumping from friends to fiend,
Her double life was like a mask you couldn't see-
Twisting my doubts,
As my heart would shout-
She'd create illusions until our conclusion.

Creating delusions, I've opened my heart to another institution-
In a manic panic,
I was really pragmatic and while this girl was ecstatic.
But really…
It was a trap.

Trapped like a bird,
All the stories my friends have heard-
She made me into a monster!
As her friends would ponder and wander in thought,
On why she'd never leave me.
Oh for she needed me-

Needed a shelter,
An orphanage of emotions-
And stirring commotions in awe.
For toxic is, as toxic comes.

Abuse is a verb I will not tolerate,
For in her words she'd consolidate-
The thought that I'm insane,
Her words in vain, she'd take my name and trash it.

I've made our lives apartheid.

She's fooled me once,
And also twice-
And third time's a charm and I wish I wasn't skeptical.
To act like I'm some special guy-
As if her act of innocence wasn't maleficent.

A succubus,
With a niche made out of watered down romanticism.
I locked my doors to keep the leaching of her sharp tongue closed.
But don't get too sentimental about it-

I'll admit, I like them self-destruct girls,
But this wasn't a teenage vow made in sweaty dorm rooms.
Manipulating catastrophes, with the audacity to creating casualties.
For unanswered questions are now better unmentioned.
On the good news- it didn't work out in the end.

As my father lingered my thought,
I shriveled in doubt,
Of what's to become when you're guideless in a hardening world.
Making daddy issues become the niche of me-
Claiming my faults for a fault beyond my control.

It's bold to place my problems on the comfortability of a missing figure.
But that's the price of a hand me down lifestyle,

Could use a pick me up right now-





Pacing back and forth through the worries of my mental health,

Avoiding doctors in panic,

I've pretty much have had it-

With the cycle of loneliness and constant manipulation,

It's all a simulation-

Like father like son,

It feels like the battle has won,

Through the sheer doubts and anxiety-

But it's only just begun.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.

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