Father you have been my mother My all, my everything My none my nothing You’ve really gone and done it now, father.
Rather than admit and quit while you were ahead Now I’m too tired to sleep As you put me to bed I’m too sad to weep So you cry instead, father.
Father, we’ve been through so much together Chelsea’s blues are our colour No matter the weather You pretended you’d be there for me. You send me mad, father.
Father, what’s your problem Probably, you’re mine. But what? You’re not. We’re not complete us too. You are A cripple who is whole. I’m too subtle for that. You cripple me father.
Father, at times our connection feels cut.
All clutter and clatter
What's the matter?
Can't cut it? Cut it out
Don't utter, because you'll stutter
It's a pity, now they don't glitter
Epitomising the staccato pitter, patter of my mettle
Words no longer melt and dance for you
Like butter, father.
Father, I’m not getting to the cause I’m just spitting out the symptoms. Don’t Doubt, rather know, those names you called me Hurt, like the worms eating holes in my heart, father
Father, why do you hate me? I’m not a boy, I’M NOT A TOY. No boys. But I’m close I tried for you, rather, you just destroyed me. It’s touching . Our relationship is like a malnourished Tramp trying to steal a car. It’s not going to work. So much love for you. I just want To love you, father.
Heart-carver, how is it that you can hurt me And be a better person still. It’s ill-advised to cross you So I cross you in style. I have become an eternal doom In your eyes. The gloom in your surprise, Shows how hard it is for soldier not to die But to love, father
Father, I wish you could see me now. Bearing The semblance of regularity. Breaking the Mould. Stretching, polarity raging here with Unbalanced power of this icy inferno You stink now or rather you smell. Well, I think it’s time you get out And get lost, father!
By Poet, Actress and Playwright and member of youth Poetry collective Words Apart: Comfort Nwabia