He's a jerk, alright?

And sometimes I kind of hate him

Because he tries to change me

Into his kind of girl


He's unreasonable and obnoxious

But only he can get mad

So sometimes I really hate him

Sometimes that makes me sad


Though I rant and I rage

And swear to tell the truth one day

I never quite get there,

And I'll never quite get there


Because I'm so damn grateful

That he's still alive



An update! After many rants to my friends, I decided some therapeutic poetry was in order.

Basically sums it all up, doesn't it? My dad had a bone marrow transplant for his leukemia, and the odds on those are rarely good. It was touch and go, and in and out of the hospital isolation wing for a while. But he's home now, and – well, see the poem if you want to know how I feel about it all.