Burning Treehouses

I've had enough.

Of all the complaining

Of all the children whinning

Maiming with their words

Frustrated and disgruntled about their limitations on life.


So she didn't let you go to the prom?

So he didn't let you stay up after midnight?

Go and cry about it.

Lock yourself in your room.

Blast the music in your room so you lose your hearing

At least they care.

Do you remember when your father used to build treehouses for you?

Do you remember when he asked you how your day was?

Do you remember the time where all he cared about was your wellbeing, and not your possessions?

Do you?

My father is a stalker







He never made treehouses for me.

He burned them

And I watched.

So the next time you storm off into your room

Making a scene

Slamming the door off its hinges.

Swear you'll hate them forever

Think for a second first.

You have no idea how lucky you really are.