by Rachel E Leugers
Thursday, October 17, 2002
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You call yourself my father,
You act like you mean something to me,
Why even bother,
When you beat me to that certain degree.
The things you started smashing,
My stuff flying across the room,
Now I hate you with a passion,
And that's why I hit you with the broom.
I didn't tell mom about it,
Because I knew you'd believe him over me,
But after a while I did and you had a fit,
Because to her heart you had the key.
She fell into your love trap,
And you knew you'd had her there,
If she left you'd snap,
And pull and tare her hair.
Since you told mom about you she hates me,
Why I do not know,
I think you two are meant to be,
After all your love did grow.
It grew like rapid wildfire,
Almot as if it were hells flames,
Hopefully you will retire,
From this beating and cheating game.
I told her to get out while you still can,
Why wouldn't she listen to me,
Now she's buried six feet under the sand,
Talking to the devil and drinking tea.
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|Reviewed by J. Murphy
|This is well written but such hard memories. This is hard to take, wish you the best. J.|
|Reviewed by Lisa Hilbers
|Rachel, This is really chaotic. It's hard to read, when you had a Father that was always so gentle and caring. It's just hard for me to imagine parents not treating their children with love and kindness,,,Lisa|