C-PTSD

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)