Wound

The grey matter of life is not one of black and white.
It’s hard to explain what it’s like when a father you hardly knew dies.
Frustration takes over.
Then anger.
What’s the craziest, though,
is the utmost shattering sense of guilt from not feeling sad enough.

Three years have past since words were exchanged.
Yet I think of him more now in the last two weeks than in that entire time alive.
His words won’t leave my soul, his crazy is making me insane.
It’s hard to blame a man’s heart when his mind was at fault

Mental health devoured any chance of a bond.
Narcissism never let him know me.
Voices, visions and a visceral void.
Never would I ever call him dad.

Its over, the daddy issues are gone.
Burned along side his ashes.
All that remains is an unmistakable turmoil
The unresolved wounds with appear
Buried deep is angst yearning for repair.

I know not what to do with myself
This pounding in my gut is hard to bear
Sleepless nights
Closure’s door slammed shut
Indifference feels different now.

~ A wound gets worse when it is treated with neglect~ Stevie Nicks