PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I wake in the morning dreading his reply.
I go about my day,imprisoned in my sty.
I escape,this caged bird flies.
I am questioned on everything I do.
I've tried sliding my foot in the other shoe.
I do understand what he's going through.
I don't want my soul washed out.
So I'll try to think of other things to talk about.
I'll change the subject, I'll change the place.
I'm reminded that he's there festering in my space.
Privacy, I want the whole cake, not just a taste.
I'm like a papier Ma che',
I'm a hardening shell but without the paste.
I've tried getting on through to meet in the common ground.
His negative aura sucks my soul dry and I'm sick of repeat rounds.
Lock the door serene sanctuary.
A nook which I can be.
Like a wounded animal,
he knocks and I listen to his bullshit pleas.
I've stopped caring, So has he.
A life of misery, is for him, not for me.
If he'd only put the effort,to get his life straight.
Not waste his time bullshitting,
think and pull his own weight.
He'd be better off.
He'd be on his way.
He'd be seeing brighter days.
I'm not about to take pity.
On a middle aged man with lost dignity.
I'm embarrassed, I'm annoyed to the extreme.
His life is going downhill.
This is nothing to him, it dose seem.
I crave my space, my privacy, my right to be me.
Daddie-Daddie take interest in your own life not mine.
I'm okay right now I'm doing just fine.
I'm not a lil' tot anymore.
Your parental expiration date has expired.
You play buddy-buddy with me.
I'd be careful your playing with fire.
I snap, bitch , and moan at you, cause your quicksand.
Your dragging everyone in and were stuck.
In your black cloud of negative suck soul dry muck.
you've been milking this shit too long.
The teat is shriveled.
All the lame excuses are gone.
Yet I'll wake another day.
His face will be there.
Then I'll escape.
This caged bird craves the fresh air.