My Father The Man The Boy The Bully Poem

When I was 9 they came and took him- he was innocent, just a victim of circumstance.

Then he return two days later, loving me the way he'd always done. I accepted that love. He raised me.

I felt his love.

He hardly raised his voice at me, for he knew I was delicate. I was humble. He protected me.

When the image of my step moms roared up with intensity to knock me down, he was there. Right there protecting me.

He smoked- he never drank. For he thought drinking was a flight of steps towards doom.

'Never make that mistake' he always said. I took his words and kept in control.

When he defended me from harm, I was afraid for them because he is a powerful man! I always felt protected.

I turned 19 and he was still powerful, still protective, and he still loved me. I loved him back.

My little sister came. I was forgotten, but still protected. His rage of frustration grew stronger, and now he gave me the eye. I was afraid for my family, but still felt protected.

Now I am a grown man, my father does not smoke anymore. He does not protect me anymore, he does not know how to love me anymore.

But he drinks. Then he drinks some more.

Flight of stairs. Steps seem shorter with every step.

Now he screams, now he growls. Now he is arrogant, now he lashes out.

When I stay with him, I fear for my life.

I preferred him when he was smoking hard- that's never distorted his senses.

I want to protect him now, but he won't let me, instead

he drains that bottle until the last drip, drops.

My dad the man, the boy, the bully.