I'm all cried out. But i'm still cried in. I might not know where I'm going, but I can see where you've been. The rage in my eyes hides the tears in heart but take part in the start of a beautiful time with more rhythm and rhyme than I think you can stand. I'm not you, average man, but I'm still a Joe Schmoe who's throwin down words just to see where they go. And they've taken me here and I swer that I know what I'm talkin' about when I say I know who I am and what I am and where I am and I know exactly who's fallowing me and for how far. I'm confident as hell, so don't tell me I'm confused, you don't walk in my shoes while you're moving along and singing your songs. I know I'm still crying, I feel the salt sting my cheeks. No I don't need a towel, god damn this shit stinks. I told you before, you deplorable man, that I can cry if I want and I can shout if I want, I can lie, shit I can give up and die if I want. And you wouldn't care, this I know, because you're not here, you're still there. Exactly where you want to be, and that's just all fine and dandy with me. You can stay over there, and I can stay over here, I won't share my tears or my fears, so shut the hell up and go the fuck away. Today is the day I don't need you no more, and that's how it'll stay. I don't need to hear your voice, I don't need to see your face. I don't need to feel your love, or your fatherly embrace. I don't need you in my life, I've stood alone for all these years. I don't need to hear your advice about a mid-life crisis, or how to crash the family car, three times, or how to leave your unwanted son with little more that a two-second glance over your shoulder, or how to be a drunk and beat the mother of your children to within one inch of her sacred life. I don't need you to teach me how to be a man. Because when it comes to being one of these; you know shit. CLICK.
I wrote this poem for a poetry class. It's a spoken word poem, so it's meant to be heard more than read. Even without the extras you get from the performace, I still think it's pretty good. I read it for the class and was happy with the response that I got. It's the first time I've written directly about the feelings I have towards my father and is also the first time that I've used profanity in a poem.