Conversations with my Father

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

RachelFrank7

Drip 

 

Drip 

 

Drip

 

One by one they pour from my eyes 

They gush around me, overwhelming my senses

 

I just wanted to go one day

 

One day without the flood

I can’t remember a day there wasn’t one

 

You say I’m a puddle

That I’m weak 

You splash me around trying to mold me into the person you want me to be,

 

I’m not her. 

 

I’m not a puddle either.

I’m a river

But I keep going against the current, 

 

Your current, 

 

and now,

I’m drowning

But I’m learning how to swim

And I’ll be reaching land soon.

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741