My Father
by Antchala Taylor

Artistic
smart
stubborn
selfish
drinker
strong
mine!
My father
gone
but here near me,
not deceased
but alive
but his mind fears me.
It's been five years
since I touched
or heard his voice,
but no
he's not dead
just gone by choice.
His stubborn
and selfishness 
kept him away from us,
but his heart
is the only thing
that I have to trust.
He left and never came back
but called this Christmas,
Five years from the day
when he first dismissed us.
He was a drinker
always had a 40oz. in his hand,
a cigarette in the other
and he thought
he was a real man.
His artistry, 
intelligence,
and kindness
could have carried him far,
scholarships in
football, track and arts
could have made him a star.
But he chose
to hold the bottle
and smoke "the dank,"
and to leave my stolen heart
in the shadows
of this tank.
The man that I
walk,
talk,
act,
and look like...
was a good man, but a sorry bastard that I will never forgive for
giving me this confused life.