Dear Dead Father [Fictional Poetry]

Dear Dead Father

Dear dead father,

I'm wasting the final moments of life

(ten minutes I've got before I die)

Writing my last words to the man who'll never read

(since ten years ago, he's been dead)

My father whom I've never cared about, ever

(the thought of dedicating him my final breath alone would have made me shiver)

But, father, fate's always been a journey of twisted wonders, a cruel dictator of our lives

(the fate that was once yours is now mine)

Father, the world was moaning in despair when you died

(they said, "the man with kind eyes has committed suicide")

When you once smiled, I saw stars in your eyes, and the world was then glowing in delight

(but what did you ever do when I had tears in my eyes?)

Generous to the poor and gentle with the weak

(they all said you were a great man indeed)

But you came home and saw your wife weep

(she worked all her life to please the man who then went to sleep)

I've spent all my life despising you, a dear father who's resting in peace

(your insensitivity, irresponsibility, and acts of injustice when it came to family, it's a never-ending list)

Mother's words about you were fuel to the rising flames within my breast, she wouldn't stop complaining about being mistreated

(as a woman, wife and a mother, she never got the love she deserved)

But now I understand, father, I understand what it is like to feel wretchedly lonely all our lives

(for we are both one and the same, our eyes, our smiles, and every bit of our crimes)

They all think you're dead, that you no longer can be walking on earth as a human being in whole

(and in everything I do, every minute of my life I feel you, father, I feel you living and breathing within my soul)

To the world, we may both be the kindest of souls to ever exist, angels descended straight from heaven

(what surprise would it be when they'd see us as two miserable souls, fools who'll never understand nor be understood, lonely and forever to be broken!)

To our families, we're cowards made of particles of fear and no other emotion

(however much they claim to love us, in their eyes, we'll always be the monsters who prefer and deserve isolation)

In the end, we are both cursed, father, you and I, we were both born to die

(it runs in our genes, this fatal infliction of lasting depression, we've only been alive to be tormented for a while)

They say you are dead, that you died ten years ago, and that you lost your battle against suicide

(But now I know, my dear dead father, you'll only be truly dead when I die)

Love,
Your daughter.