play your part, old man
Juliette Brookman
You don’t behave
like you should.
All those movies
and sitcoms
gave me false hope.
Filled my brain
with nonsense.
I followed these
unrealistic ideals
blindly.
You were supposed
to be wonderful.
You were supposed
to be someone
who made me laugh
and took me places
and gave me a hug
at night
and said you loved me
and truly meant it.
Why did you let me down?
All the perfect examples,
all the good ones
were splattered across
the screen that you
were bound to.
How could you not have seen?
Why won’t you change?
Look and see
at what you’ve done to me.
Your child that you treated
like a vessel,
only meant to process
your complaints
and then stir up
a response
that agrees
with your hate,
just to stop you
from talking,
just to stop
everything.
If I oppose your point,
I’d be falling
into a guilt-infested
wormhole,
where all I hear
is you,
and that tone of your’s
that I hate.
No way out,
no one to help.
I can’t put up a fight.
You cut off my claws,
silenced my roars,
and kept me in a
restrictive cage,
deep inside
a secluded corner.
Open that heart
that you’ve got
tucked away.
How silly,
how stupid,
to think that you’d
ever be kind.
As selfish as they come.
My friend’s dad
is sweet,
as is her’s,
and his,
and theirs.
They know how to behave,
so why don’t you?