Showing posts with label dysfunctional. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dysfunctional. Show all posts

March 21, 2014

Independent



A portrait type photo of Jen
For an amazing wife, mother, and woman; Jen Newville
I’ve tried expressing my concerns, but you don’t ever learn.

That name calling shit really is for the birds.

I see you’re confused by what you heard.

How could you disrespect your own daughter?

You’re the worst; sorry excuse for a father.

Your own daughter doesn’t trust you, so you took it even farther.

She is proud of herself, and now you’re looking at the product.

Father is a title that you just haven’t earned.

So, forgive me for not caring about your feelings that I hurt.

There’s a name for people like you; call them lurks.

You are just another shameless jerk with no ambition to work.

You’re an alcoholic mess, and you made me go berserk.

Now, try to make another excuse for your hideous behavior.

Call your daughter a few more names, like you made her.

She’s a beautiful woman, and my life’s true savior.

She’s completely self-made, unlike the two failures that created her.

Now, she’s surrounded by love. Not the family that only hated her.

November 14, 2013

Hate Mail


I take care of business neatly. Nobody needs to meet me.
Payment clears on PayPal, and you will get your shit discretely.
We'll be hitting up the street scene with our rides flexing beefy.
So, if you need a tree then my goons will come and see me.
I'm just doing me, steering clear of the precinct.
My picture's perfect clear. I see through your shit distinctly.
Your picture's got a haze, like you ordered something greasy.
The smell of shit is in the air. What the fuck you trying to teach me?
All the preaching isn't fair. Introducing Visto's demons.
Decipher all these meanings. Find an undercover legion.
You call yourself a dad? Well, you're not a father even.
Just a bitch that's a snitch. Make a living off of leaving.
So, get your PPO, my dude. You're gonna need it.
As of right fucking now we are permanently beefing. 
When you're no longer around, I guess we can call it even.
You're just another fucking clown that I never could believe in.