I hate the way he
flips his cards
and the way he tends to walk.
I hate it when he slams
the door and often
how he talks.
no, this is not a love poem,
although your father
is often your first love.
but I wish he had my
Mama\'s tenderness,
instead of creating more traumas.
-an angry daughter
(p.s. i missed my childhood because of you)