Abandonment Poem

A girl waits eleven years to meet her father. By then it is too late for him. Where was he the last eleven years. She has rejected him from her heart.

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I was born on July 2,1997 in Juan Luis Hospital on St. Croix, U.S. Virgin …

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© Brittany D. Bevel

Published: Feb 2006

I'll Never Call Him Daddy

I'll Never Call Him Daddy

My first word was not Da-da.
It didn't need to be,
because who would I call Daddy?

He never saw me walk into Kindergarten,
with that fear in my eyes.
Nor, did he see the tears that I cried.

He never helped through anything.
Life, school, boys, friends.
He never will is what I comprehend.

But he did show up one day,
out of the blue.
And I looked at my mom and asked, Is this true?

Can this man really be my father? Is he?
She looked at me and nodded.
Here was the man I had completely forgotten.

Did I run into his arms and cry a river? No.
Instead I looked at him in disbelief,
because this was the man who caused me so much grief.

Eleven years and not a word.
Not a phone call or letter,
but I got used to thinking it was for the better.

I used to think my life would be so much better,
with a man to call my Father.
And looking back now I think, why even bother?

Without him I was happy.
Now all I do is scream and cry.
Sometimes I just wish he would die.

We don't get along.
We scream and yell at each other.
It's impossible to think we could ever love one another.

And I try so hard to please him.
but everything I do is a sin,
according to him.

I have known this man, who claims to be my dad,
for almost three years now.
And during this whole time all he has done is bring me down.

So I dry up my tears and try again.
And pray that this time we will not yell.
But it is way too soon to tell.

And I know he longs to hear me say Daddy.
But I just call him Paul.
That's who he is to me and that's all.

Just Paul.
Not Daddy.
No, he's not that man for me.


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  • by Jasmine, South Burnside, IL
  • Jun 2010

I was born on July 2,1997 in Juan Luis Hospital on St. Croix, U.S. Virgin Islands my mother was from Chicago and my father was from Cuba. According to my mother and grandmother my father loved me very much but of course I don't believe this. Anyways my father hit my mother once while I was in her hands and she left. Later he called my grandmother to find out were she was or to send money but my grandmother told him to call back later.....he never did. I was 1 when this happened I don't remember how my father looks and I've never seen a picture of him! It angers me when people who knew him say I look like him. I heard he had another son as a matter of fact I heard he had two other son's. For 11yrs.I blamed myself for this and felt abandoned. I came into contact with one of my brothers this summer and found out, Rene, "My father", left him too and for 18 yrs.! I've decide It's not me it's him! I don't know what happened to him nor do I care I'm only 12 but if I ever meet Rene he'll be just that, Rene.


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