Original Poetry Fan Fiction ❯ I USED to be an angry Poet... ❯ Sometimes, I Wish I Was A Bastard ( Chapter 4 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Sometimes, I Wish I Was A Bastard

Original iloveanimecartoons

Original Version September 10, 1997

Revision February 12, 2008

Yes, my life has been trying—a bit hard barely describes

The hurt I've held back and the many held-in cries

Seems kinda ungrateful to kick those years to the curb

When “Daddy's Little Girl” was a title well deserved

But, to quiz you in, people, on why I feel fatherless

Here come a few examples on how my “father” had me stressed

In a state of confusion of life, where were you?

In a state of depression, I couldn't get through to you by phone, letter, or telegram

I tried to end my life, Daddy—did you care about the state of mind I was in?

In the state of New York, I was—and, while in B'more

You couldn't keep up with the daughter you once so adored

And, now, you're nothing to me but the sperm that fertilized my mother's egg

“The Sperm Guy”—I like that; I'm gonna keep it! And, “Daddy,” I beg you

Don't come to me, when I make it, and bring me the blues

Like Shaquille O'Neal's dad—you didn't pay your dues

At times, physically, mentally, verbally, I wanted to hurt you

let you down a bit—bring my experience to you

Sometimes, I wish I was a bastard—I feel I have a right to complain

I used to be the apple of your eye, but, now, all love I had for you was in vain

which was causing a strain, on my mind, in my back

And the fact that you lied to me, makes me lose track

Of the good times we had; and, oh, how you lied

About visiting and calling—no actions justified your words

Me and my brother didn't deserve to have a sorry-ass father, who plucked our damn nerves

With a strong-minded mother, we lived and survived

Growing up, making our way, without a father on our side

Mommy kept me on lockdown, but, your son—oh, my Lord

He dropped out of school because he was bored

Well, actually, that's not right—your son was let go

from school after school—he didn't seem to know any better

Or, better yet, he needed to be leant on a bit

Talked to, man to man, and shit

Palled around with, given lessons of life

Maybe, then, he wouldn't have turned out so trife

What a trip, life has been, since you rolled out so deep

I remember the nights I used to cry myself to sleep

And, in every tear that dropped from my eye

I sat and I sniffled, out loud, “Daddy, why?”

Wondering if it was I who did something wrong

Wondering it you still loved me, when I haven't seen you in so long

Well, our mother kept it real with us, at all times

Saying, simply, if a person cares, you'll hear from them sometimes

That it shouldn't be a thing where you'd have to be a pest

To call and write 3 times a week, before they'd get the concept

So, I got the point, and, as I grew, oh, yes, I learned

That I had only one good parent and, as far as I'm concerned

When my mother went to her resting place

You rolled out, as well—so, `Daddy', stay out of my face

You weren't there for me, unless my mother cussed you out

Or, when you got drunk—I, now, know what you're all about

I came to realize the problem you had with communication

With speaking your true feelings, but, Dad, it caused me much frustration

How could I knock the same problem I've inherited from you?

I mean, I have problems expressing my true feelings, too

But, we had so much to catch up on—that's when I still gave a fuck

Now, I'm seriously pissed, and, of all the damn luck

Living in the same city, and near the same bus line

Why couldn't you call me, or write me, or visit sometime?

You could've sent a message in a bottle, Daddy, to send for me

But, I guess it wasn't worth your time of day to be with me

And, you wonder why I never give you any thing for Father's Day

Well, you must, first, be a father to get respect, in that way

A bastard, to me, is a child with no knowledge or presence of a father

I try to hold on to memories of days with you, but, then think, “Why bother?”

What will it matter—what will it change? If I were to plead and beg

I could never have the relationship, I wanted, with Mister….(moving right along)

So, in all ways, in my mind, from age 13 up to the present

I've been fatherless—so glad my mother was strong enough to represent exactly what it meant to have responsibility and heart

And, be both a mother and a father—right from the start

Sometimes, I wish I was a bastard, with the means of pure perfection

That, I could go back in time and be made by Immaculate Conception

“That's kinda harsh—don't you think?” my father's friends ask me

I say, “If you have walked a decade in my shoes, longing for a father that brings you the blues, and has no respect for your feelings and will always choose to be out of sight and out of reach if needed by you—well, then, you might, unquestionably, understand

If you had a father like mine, I'd feel for you, man

Oh, look what I said—a father

Oh, it is to laugh!!!