Writers 
Dear Dad,
What exactly am I supposed to write about you?
Should I say we never really clicked from the start?
Or that
a part of you didn't want
the whole of me.
There are days I wish you were here.
Days I wish we'd sit and talk endlessly.
And days I wish you'd scold me
for being wrong
Guess who's wrong?
There are days I wish it was just us,
running away from Mum's drama.
I remember vividly when you said you'd be back.
You said you loved me.
You said I meant a lot.
Lol…
I meant nothing.
I try to undo everything you did in my head,
all my pain,
all your excuses.
But it just doesn't work.
When others say a million things about Their dad's.
I say none.
Not even one.
I'm not ready to talk to you,
not because I don't want to—
my words are just sharp.
And I don't hurt people,
even if they deserve it.
So if we ever meet again,
let's just act like the strangers
we've always been.
And I don't hurt people,
even if they deserve it.
So if we ever meet again,
let's just act like the strangers
we've always been.
