The Sentimental Mug

This was written about 5 years ago with a few recent edits. It was my first ever slam poem.

 

I’m not crying.

But, I’d be lying if I told you I never did shed a tear,

After you left me here to rot,

Just a little tot,

Sitting in a pile of my own snot,

While you went out to get pot.

I was a tiny, little dot

On a planet so big; it’s hot and it’s wild.

I was only a child

Stuck in a world that isn’t even close to being mild.

I’m just over here getting all riled up with hope that you might come back;

Back to our sad shack,

Without any crack.

It seems as though I lack the ability to rack my brain for a reason why,

A reason why you said goodbye.

When I found out you left because you were always getting high,

I wanted you to die.

No, that was a lie.

What I really wanted was for you to look me in the eye and tell me that you made a mistake.

And then, hey, make I’d make you a nice chocolate cake.

Yet, I know it would all be fake.

You’d probably hide in the bathroom and get baked.

But, before you go to the loo,

I have a couple questions for you.

What’s so great about drugs, like speed or heroin?

I would much rather you put that needle in a bin,

Not in your skin.

I’d much rather you drink a little gin,

As opposed to you sitting at the corner with a tin,

Or committing sin after sin and ending up in a cell.

Can’t you remember the sound of those wedding bells?

Or the feeling you got when your heart swelled as you saw her in that white dress.

I bet she looked the best.

And yet, you left her and me to get an arrest.

Lest we forget,

I’ll mention my regret

For being the daughter of a man who, no, didn’t bet,

But bought big bags of blow and put us in debt.

If I were you, I would never snort as a last resort.

All that would do is get you in court.

Also, notice how I’m not using big words.

It’s because it would all just sound slurred to you as birds, like the words, flew over your head.

Sometimes… I wish you were dead.

But, instead, I remember that you’re my dad.

And yes, the choices you made were bad,

And the amount of drugs you’ve had has made me sad,

But you’re still my father.

I hope one day that you will bother to come find me,

Your daughter who didn’t turn out to be a thug,

Your daughter that just wanted you to give her arm a tug and pull her into a hug

Maybe I’d even give you a mug that says World’s Greatest Dad.

 

Mahalo and Aloha,

Caitlin

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