It’s always the same, every single day, 

Not allowed to argue, can’t even fight. 

All this hurt, and the pain will always stay. 

I want skill, help, more emotional might. 

Rage, tears, stress, pain, I’ve got much, much more. 

I can’t even swear or scream, it’s a crime. 

“If you don’t want to work, walk out the door.” 

“Just go ahead, no need to waste my time.” 

Sometimes I wish that this could all be fake. 

It would keep fury and anger at bay. 

But that's not worth it, for the time you take.

And yet that pent up rage won’t go away. 

I’m sorry dad, I can’t communicate. 

But it’s your fault too, you were way too late.