Can you hear me now?
For years you have ignored me, forgetting about me for months at a time until my face would slip back into your mind, reminding you of what you’re missing out on.
For years you haven’t even bothered to try and make a father-son relationship, scolding my mother because of the bond that you and I don’t possess.
I would wait beside the phone waiting for your voice to start beckoning for me, but all was in vain when nothing rang.
You ignored me, never hearing me.
Can you hear me now?
I used to cry for hours on end when I would see all the other little children at my school run to their fathers’ embrace, but I never had that.
As time shifted down the line, I realized that I could never what the color of your eyes are, the shape of your face, the feeling of your smile nor the warmth of your arms.
I never had what the other kids had but that wasn’t the part that hurt the most.
Can you hear me now?
What sent me bending over face first into my pillow at night was the fact that you just don’t seem to care about anything anymore.
When I asked you once why you don’t call me like you said you would, your reply was, “I don’t know son” as if that was the answer that I was looking for.
Can you hear me now?
My last bits of my world shattered to dust when I heard those words over the phone.
You don’t know why you don’t call your son?
You don’t know why you’re never there when I needed you most?
You say you know what it’s like to be without a father there like he should be?
THEN WHY DO YOU DO JUST THAT?
Can you hear me now?
I finally grew up enough to know the difference between your true colors and the colors that you painted for me in my head.
Your futile efforts to bring me back to land of “Daddy’s little boy” are done for.
My eyes see you, but you don’t see them.
My ears hear you, but they filter your words like the morning coffee grounds my mother would use.
I’m done sulking over what you never had,
You will always be my father, but you will never be my Dad.
So tell me, can you hear me now?