Dear Father

tell me and I listen

order me and I do

preach to me and I believe

all of these things were beaten into my very soul

carved into my flesh and bone

creating for me my very own

prison

the walls are inscribed,

in my blood,

the dos and don’ts of

my life

but I didn’t put them there

you did

the tape recorder on the ceiling

is out of my reach

its batteries never fail

and its message is never ending:

“you never do anything right”

it is in my voice

but I didn’t put it there

you did

the walls of my prison close in

as I try to spread my wings,

to search for something free and beautiful

alas, there they are at my feet

torn from my very soul

but I have not ripped away my freedom

you have

and as I go out into the world

scared

and waiting for someone to tell me what to do

I know that my last question to you comes out as

“what did I do to deserve this?”

but what I really mean is

“what have you done, father?”

            Alrighty… Uhmm… … … I honestly can’t think of anything to say. Please review? ^.^;