My Father, Not my Father

Every boy desires to be like his father when they grow up
But what happens when we grow up and want nothing to do with them???
When all you see doesn’t please the man becoming,
And now you ask yourself,
‘what happened to when I grow up I want to be daddy? ‘
Because now you don’t wanna be like daddy,
The indecisive shadow of life on your path
The lacking of a father to believe in ’cause father Christmas too was just a hoax,
He never showed up except on TV.
The fear of becoming a snake for you’re born of a snake,
Many letters written to daddy never met the post office,
The thoughts were never going to turn into words on paper,
Some remained on the ink of a ball point pen
Some written in pencil were erased
Even my mouth could not post my mail of thoughts,
Maybe if we were android we could’ve communicated better,
I mean, my Bluetooth device would’ve always paired to yours ’cause I have my blood in your memory.
You see,,, victims become the snakes they loathed –
The fruits that fell right at the trees’ bossom,
While the survivors, well, they try not to be a copyright
The men who struggle to redefine the meaning of fatherhood
If my words hit home, then me and you same wozzap.
Victims and survivors are alike
Victims and survivors are not alike,
Our difference comes in on who reaches out to ‘our father who at in heaven’.

~Misfit poet~