What I Always Was

About four times a year

I drink too much beer

which really is vodka

but my kids, are dear

and always call it beer

and I don’t correct them

because beer sounds less queer

…I think…

Now on each of those fours

there are no locks on the doors

of my mouth or my fingers

which both spew venom which definitely lingers…

The recipient is my dad.

Poor thing…

after I do it, I really feel bad

and then I get mad

I get mad at myself when I sober up a bit

and realize what dreadful things I said

even though he deserves every bit of it.

even the parts where I wish his ass dead.

And then I get mad at myself for getting mad at myself

because I know he deserves every bit of it

and I’m kicking myself like I’m a piece of shit

which is what he always said I was.

…and no, if you’re wondering…he never replies.
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4 comments

  1. Athena, I say this from my heart. I do understand. But, you have to let go of the hate. It will eat you alive and poison your children. I think you know this.

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