Fuck You, Dad.

I will never be like him.

I don’t want to, I don’t need to.

He was the evil he still is.

He burns my throat like pills:

The fabric he rips open leads to frills,

Open heart surgery at best,

I don’t have his disease

Just because our humors are similar,

Our mannerisms,

Our hobbies,

Our difficulties are similar.

I won’t be the sick joke I’m afraid to tell him.

I won’t live in the hell he lives in.

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