Sometimes I am so much like my father, poetically slashing, I have to check myself.

I wonder how much hurt he felt to be so good at hurting others. I hate how I can bite like him. I'm still mad they had me. I hated being in the middle. I felt like two different people. Never myself. With a hellacious mouth.

It's not that I can't see the good they made too, I just think I was always tainted because they were enemies.

I try to remember they loved me.

But I don't think they ever knew me aside from what in me reminded them of themselves and each other.

They're long gone, I thought I'd stop caring at all, but how can I forget them when I have to continually peel away at who I had to be to feel loved by them.