but I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Miles to go before I sleep. ~ Robert Frost
A child sleeping, awoken and fearful,
Breaking glass, raised voices,
Pull the covers over my head, tearful.
Sadness, anger, familiar feelings abound,
I know to stay hidden.
Not to make a sound.
But my Mom, I worry so.
She defends herself…
This I know.
He is cruel, mean, violent, irate,
Any love he created, vanishes…
My love for him turned to hate.
And it never diminished over the years,
Until a sad change in fate.
My Dad, who should have been near and dear.
A homeless man, a roof over his head, he denied…
Alone, in a park, he chose alcohol,
And on a park bench he died.
© bipolarmuse 2011
** My Dad is a sore subject for me. I felt like he should have been a better Father… but I should have loved him, had a place in my heart where I could love him unconditionally. I could have reached out and tried to know him, God knows several times he reached for me. I was angry and bitter and felt superior. I now am humbled as these mental disorders have shown me that life is never predictable and that the best efforts are not always productive in the way you intended. Sometimes your world can turn upside down… and it’s not so easy to turn it back around.**