A poem for the parents

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I’ve died a thousand times But I’ve never found the right way To leave this life behind   My inability to live To clutch a life thrusted into my hands
So much relies uponLittle working bees.From cold winters to scorching summers,The bees never failTo contribute for their hive.  
on frigid winter mornings, you spend long hours in the graveyard of a garden,  knee-deep in soil so brittle, no one believes in it anymore. 
Nothing quite hit until I lost my uncle, R.I.P, then I lost my aunt, death was going on a shopping spree A year after that I lost another uncle too, I didn't understand the concept of death from their point of view
I never seen a crowd so far from meIt was always my  suicidal thoughts enclosing me It was like my clothing Always on me
A parent who works hard day and night  A parent who sacrifices to give you light  Someone to lean on, someone to cry on  My love for you can go on and on You provide love and shelter for all your kids
It’s not easy having a 9 to 5, Not easy taking crap from people , Whose value isn’t any less greater than your own. It’s not easy reading three computer screens,
You began by holding my hand destroying all my obstacles,  holding me when I couldn't stand.   Though it began with late night scary dreams,  for which you were prepared;
As you age, you remember me As you live, you remember me As your body dies, you remember me As your mind follows, you remember me
Parents are our first mentors. They teach us to be good, to stay away from drugs, and to be kind to others despite our differences, But they don't always teach us how we thought they would.
If words were weapons, I'd be dead. I know what I did was wrong; My shattered conscious is not entirely gone, But you rub it in my face, Like a person who just beat me in the race, Of life.
You never asked me what I wanted Instead you told me what I would and will It was never about me It was you living through me So I could see
When we are born they are our only friend, they clean up messes and help you to the end. When you are a toddler, screaming and pouting,
Dear Father   The way you care for me throughout my life It makes me feel like I miss you. Teaching me how to ride my bike, tie my shoes, and do math. Reading scripture and applying it to our lives.
I look through your blood coated eyes All I see are dark heavy painful ties I see the groans of a mother who's bent on overcoming the "women are weaker vessels" cliche
I will never be good enough for you At the first line of this, most people think this is gonna be about An ex significant other Or someone who I wish I could be with But it's not
I lie and you yell I cry and you yell Don’t smile or you yell No truth in thought cause you yell You are not happy You say what you believe
When I write down every word, the pounds of weight you put on my shoulders continue to drop. How could I be demanded to respect but be disrespected?
Yes, I know I am tall, yes I am over six feet. The truth is that the air up here is no better than the air down there. The air up here is still plagued by pollutants and marinated in a pool of empty dreams.
The Sun and the Moon together  raise the Earth. The Sun, with her warm touch keeps the Earth in place. The Moon, with his strong pull creates the tides to calm the Earth.  2 opposites
As the days go by, this arduous feeling grows. As I lay there, I can picture your faces in the patches of the sky. Dark and grey, I begin to feel your tears run down my face, It was time for me to let go. 
The precious face Doused in make up and covered by black locks 36 years in the making Your internal wounds are not so easily hidden His words  have never even made you smitten   Oh what have you done?
They work from dawn to dusk, every single day.
Dear mom and dad, I won't pick up the phone. I still hold a grudge From when I felt alone. You threw me in a place That was an adolescent hell, And my cavity of joy
Your silence thunders in my ears echoeing like a thousand empty caves. Memories of my childhood come flooding back stabbing at my heart with their pointy barbs.
The echos of time long past still haunt me; of things that could have been but are not; of times when we fought over learning and knowledge. Why did you not fight for me?
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