My Poetry
My Friends' Poetry
My Favorite Poetry
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Inheritence
I just don't understand why you're always mad at me,
Telling me my every thought is wrong.
You say that I'm negative
But negative words are all
That you ever have for me to give.
I was a little boy standing there.
You were always sleeping in your chair.
Remembering my fear of
Even coming near
To ask you're help in doing math
Or some other fatherly task.
Now, I'm an adult try'n to see you eye to eye.
My efforts useless, you don't even try.
Passive aggressiveness is
What we both do.
Neither of us lis'ning, too.
Talk is worthless.
I've never learned to catch or throw a ball.
Don't remember much of you when I was small.
A model you were for me, for
How I'm s'posed to be.
But for all the clashing that we do,
You're still the man I look up to.
I'm my father's son.
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