Irony at it's best

You and mom thought you hid it well
The arguments, the fighting, the love you shared slowly turning to hate
I may have only been four, but I was never stupid

I wasn't surprised when one day, one of the petty insults one of you made
Turned into a screaming match
And mom took us -my two brothers and I- and went to Gram's house

For a little while after the divorce, you tried
I don't doubt that
But then you married her
A woman several years older than you
With children nearly grown
All teenagers
But we were only five, seven, and nine
And she didn't want 'babies' anymore, did she?

So, instead of trying anymore, you bent to your wife's wishes
Fading away from us, until all we got was visits every weekend
And those turned into every other weekend, then every month
Until you she had him.

When I was nine, you had my baby brother
And with your new family intact, you forgot your old one
Those visits turned into occasional brithday cards
Occasional phone calls, a visit once a year
Until, at fifteen, I haven't talked to you in months
And haven't seen you in nearly two years

You only care about your new wife, your new son, and your new business
Forgetting the three children from your previous marriage
All because your wife didn't want to have 'babies' anymore.
Irony at it's best.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback