life doesn't move me.. i have no effect or cause
im like a movie.. played with a defective pause
& it loosley calls for all of my collective flaws
to be produced, then viewed with subjective thought
except, i brought.. an excuse of sorts
through my youth i fought as the abuse was taught
i didn't choose the sport.. i was forced to play
couldnt refuse.. i would lose all his support that way
so to prove, i stayed .. being distraught with pain
& each day was the same.. tossed to the game
But.. not in the way of a coach or team
or the one where i lived HIS hopes & dreams
its the one where i'd cope & hope to be seen
you see.. i was suppose to be mean
& he wanted a winner.. dressed in the proper gear
adressed the same question at dinner..
"You think we got a shot this year?"
he'd stop & stare.. watch me as he topped his beer
I'd answer clear.. "Yeah, we got a good shot".. the fear,
almost choked the air.. right from my lungs as i spoke
it felt like my throat was being tightly hung from a rope
it was no joke..
& i dont know.. why, i was so petrified to speak
so many times i would cry myself to sleep
weeped.. like a willow as tears seaped through my pillow, wet..
& my dreams seemed to reflect each feature in his sillotte..
then i'd get to see that he was filled with misery & regret
cause he didn't let me be who i wanted to be.. the best
now the only thing i can do is ask God to bless..
his memory & remember he.. loved me in my dreams...... i guess

R.I.P Dad...

-Evolve

this was beautifully written with this consistant amount of rhyming that would fill most of Rb's OMers with envy. Not only that, but the emotion was so clear and strong that it left the reader with a nice little twinge of sadness. Great work, 'Volve.
-Maven