• loathe

    by  • September 6, 2010 • Family Stuff, Frustration, Grief, Parents, Waxing Poetic • 0 Comments

    I’m ashamed to be born of you My skin retches and reeks of you, I hate it so..

    Your thoughts belong to the stone age Your mind filled-up and overflowing with filth So full, it cannot learn or accept anything new.

    I sometimes think, I cannot be born of you. How can a bird be born of a crocodile? I hate myself just because I’m associated with you. It confuses me.. troubles me…I find it hard to accept.

    Everything about you defiles my sanctity Your words have more rubbish than the filth of the world put together Your thoughts are not your own.

    I wonder, how it would have been if you actually used that brain of yours,
    To think, is what it’s meant to do. To ask questions, to explore, to be curious. It instead only holds prejudice and ill-fed notions.

    When you were 17, didn’t you question authority? Didn’t you wonder “Why not?” instead of accepting blindly what was fed into your head?
    When you were 18, didn’t you feel like you were going to live forever, and the world is your oyster? Didn’t you want to fall in love and get hurt, just to feel alive? When you were 20, didn’t you ask yourself “Why should I not?” Didn’t you feel, “Why should I do this?”, when you didn’t want to.

    Did you ever bother finding the meaning of the word “Culture”, you keep talking about?
    Culture is an experience gained from interaction with the world & its people. Its not hereditary…It’s learnt. I’m sure you did not know that, until now. For forty years, you kept thinking that this is what “culture” means.
    How does it feel, to know finally, that you are wrong?

    The point of education they say, is to open up the mind, free your spirit and liberate yourself. Do you consider yourself educated? Because, your mind is so full. It cannot contain anything new. Its spent all its energy on learning things without questioning. Accepting things, with a blindfold on..

    For 22 years, you have been around me. Unfortunately only physically. Trying to make me a person you imagined me to be. While I bled I cried inside just for some understanding. You provided for me just like every parent in the world, in every species provides for.
    A morsel in my mouth, a place to sleep, a protection from the elements.
    And you boast of this un-extraordinary feat!

    Just so you know, I’ve done the best I can. Your children are not clay models, which you can model upon. They are individuals.. As distinct as you

    Maybe we will bite the dust, not knowing each other. Our blood being the only factor that binds us… Not with love. Its just blood. For 22 years you ceased to make an effort to understand me… What I’m passionate about? What I dream every night?
    How I like my toast?
    And How I feel about Marxism and dictatorship

    I was just some rubber putty who came of your blood & bones. I, sprung out of two strangers, who never understood me. Nor did I,
    Never will.

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