Home Truths (twilight of the 20's)

I grow enraged through my Father
at the slightest domestic grievance:
money, dishes, spillages, attitude.
It is highly ridiculous for a man my age.
And all because I cannot come to say it
face to face - I am a bit of a queer…
I guess if I said it I would then be afriad
that I wasn’t actually a queer and that I had
been fooling myself my whole life.

I would shout at my Mother.
Dismissing everything she said.
She knew I was a bit queer.
perhaps it messed with her mind.
perhaps it all just didn’t sit too easy.

I was irritable: cantankerous.
A curmudgeonly young fool
I wanted to be right.
My life was blissfully comfortable.
I deserved the firing Squad
for such displays of indifference and immaturity…

He should have choked on that Silver spoon.
He should have been beaten more as a child.
We should have given him something to survive from.

as we listen again and again and again and again
to this worn old record

Sometimes there’s no therapy quite as effective as writing a poem.

I love the honesty here. we all can relate to this one I think.