My father, "dad,"
was diagnosed with bipolar,
can you believe that?
can i believe that?
so many years, so many months,
i just thought he was an unpredictable *******,
one who barges in the house like a tornado and volcano combined,
one who yells and screams and no one knows why,
and one who made me scared,
so scared,
of every man and every father.
And when my parents divorced,
did i feel sad or angry or suprised?
did i cry?
no never, not once,
only out of joy, and is it wrong to be happy?
to have a crazy man, who hears voices and smashes tables,
a crazy man who made me believe that rooms were for locking,
and so was myself,
is it so bad to be happy that man was gone?
it's my biggest secret; he cheated.
sort of sad, not really suprising,
to think any other women would be better than my mother,
because she's amazing,
even after a discovery of an affair that lasted months,
seven to be precise,
she still smiles.
no one knows the extent of it though,
the trauma,
how i can't stand when anyone yells,
how scared and lonely i feel just remembering a childhood,
a broken childhood,
left in pieces because of a crazy schizo bipolar *** of a father,
made monster by heredity.
i won't tell you though, not anyone,not even a counselar,
i won't trust anymore, because everyone lets you down,
and that's the only descent thing my father taught me.
everyone has a story, but i play mine cool,
battle scars only on insides,
fathers a few towns over,
but never far enough.