the only thing my dead father left me,
was the idea that I am cursed,
like he was,
and his father before him.
he left me his depression,
his self loathing,
I don’t want my inheritance.
you can take it with you to the grave.
keep it, please.
you gave me nothing my whole life.
I don’t want your shit now.
I talk to you more now that you’re dead,
than I ever did when you were alive.
I’ll do things my own way,
as I have done.
you weren’t there when I needed you.
so why do I waste my time with you now?
I am still here. alive.
I have blood running through my veins
I am flesh.
I need no curse from a dead man.
I walk among the living dead.
I found someone who loves me.
not what I can give.
that should break this fucking curse
you lived with women,
who you hated, despised,
just to have a roof over your head.
you were too pussy to make it on your own.
I made it on my own.
you were alone in houses and apartments
silently crying to yourself,
wishing death would come sooner,
but were too afraid to speed up the process.
you, father, were jealous of me.
instead of nurturing, you were envious.
you told my women, “why settle for him,
when you can have the original?”
over the years, you would call and tell me
that you were dying for different reasons.
it got to the point where I was just waiting
for you to call and tell me that you were already
it seemed like it was never going happen.
for a dying man, you were very healthy.
now you are gone.
all that’s left are memories of disappointment.
keep you fucking curse
I won’t pass it on to my kid.