The Sins Of The Father

I was hungry for love, and you ignored me

I was thirsty for encouragement but all I received was criticism

I was naked - ashamed with no self worth; you couldn’t even look at me

I felt like a stranger in a strange land – you did not make me feel at home

I was sick with depression, and all I felt was your condemnation

I was in the prison of the soul, and you were silent

I tried to sing, but my songs did not touch you

I spilt out my inky soul onto pages, but you would never read a word

You were there, but all I felt was absence

Your presence was my desert

The image of you tormented me, for it became a memorial

A reminder of love’s privation

The absent father, who was there, but was not there

Cursed are you in your abstraction - for there you can mean nothing to me

I remember that day I sat down in front of you

And asked you to say that you loved me

For any father should love his child

But you just looked back at me blankly…

…you made a bastard out of me.