Blocked

As I sit here. Staring at your blockade from the sun.

I can't help but see it as a representation of you.

Closing off the things you want to.

I can't help my mind wondering why I had to be one of them?

What did I do?

Was it me who made you like this?

Why do I still try?

Why do I do everything to try to make you feel my love?

And when you tell me you love me.

It slips right through.

Into the cracks.

Of my broken foundation of love.

Because. It was you.

You.

That broke it.

I wonder if you meant to.

I wonder if you care.

I wonder if you even know.

Aside from all these unanswered questions.

I will continue to try.

Ignoring the pain.

And toxicity.

Of calling you.

Dad.

This poem is about: 
My family

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