Father of mine, wait, shouldn't I just call you Dad?

I did not want to be your son

I was supposed to be your daughter

But, really, I was the bastard child of a nameless man....Which you never let me forget Dad

I did not want to hunt

When you made me shoot that gun


When you made me shoot a rabbit or a deer, my soul was never the same

I did not want to see their innards, which held their secret blood


White washed bones and sawed off knees, is how I stood before you that day. My pale hands covered in blood, my shirt splattered with it


You made me aware that it is a man's world Dad, and that it always would be


Then I learned the art of being numb

When I came home from school one day and you, smiling, butchered my rabbit as I stood in the street


You had waited so I could see


Her screams sonded like that of a thousand babies in my ears

I fell to my knees with my head to the ground, looking sideways, I could see her blood flow down the grass like a small river


And I cried that I could not protect her from the madman you were



I learned, Dad, not to be like you


Rue @ 2010