Growing up I knew what I wanted to be, a princess, no wait thats not correct actually a doctor, but to my dad I would be a princess. Dad that word sounds familiar yet not familiar enough to be able to use it on him. He was everything but a father, never would be, never was, all those days spent missing him and crying for him at the age of 4 to the age of 6 when he was working in different cities or so it was said he was working, but hey a little kid like me has no reason to think otherwise, was I supposed to know that he's actually with another women of course not, but when you grow up and reach a certain age you realize thats exactly what he was doing. Imagine being in the fifth grade learning that your father who supposedly only worked far away because thats where the work was, was actually just spending time with his second family. To be exact his supposed ex-wife and his two songs which would make them my half-brothers is who he would be seeing.

It changed everything I thought of him I looked up at him as a kid because he took care of us, but thats far from what it was, my mother who played both roles took care of me and my brother while he was seeing his other family, she fed us, she kept us safe, took us to school and stayed up late when we needed to do homework. While he layeth in another womens bed, loving them instead of loving us, I slept in a home that I couldn't call home anymore. We were his family here, they were supposed to be his past life the family left back in Cuba while he came to the United States and yet they followed.

I think of all those memories when I needed both my parents for awards and for when I needed therapy but he wasn't there he was "working". While I struggled to stay alive, trying to not reach the end knowing all this information and not being able to do a single damn thing only allowed to sit back and watch. He slowly started to forget and not care about what we thought and now even though he thinks its still a secret we all know and I m sure a part of him knows we know.

My main problem is how can you sit here and tell me you love me and my brother not my mother of course but you can tell us and like everything is ok. Its not ok I will never be ok you screwed me up, I have anger issues because of you, I learned to lie at such a young age and how to get away with things, I learned to tell when your lying and when your going to see her. You criticize me and my brother all the time because I'm to fat for my age, which Im not I'm healthy actually and as for my brother he can't find a job yet so hes incompetent in your eyes but he was top of all his classes and even went for his masters with a full ride because of how smart he is. Not only that but how you did my mother, made me believe that was normal for a relationship, that it was ok for the man to cheat and tell you he loves you but not mean it, that they can want someone else at the same time and be with them while with you. All my failed relationships because of you because I thought it was ok to be treated like shit because thats what love was. You will never be my father although you live in this house, your house to be exact because it will never be me and my families home.

YOU WILL NEVER BE MY FATHER.

I’m 4, It's the first day of school, I hop off my car seat walking up to the front doors. Im wearing my Barbie backpack and my light up pink shoes. I've never been more excited to start school and meet new people. I can color all day and sing my abc's. I can't wait to meet all my teachers.

I'm 11, it's the first day of middle school, I couldn't sleep, I was feeling every emotion possible. I walk up to the front of the school, nervous it's a new place, new people. But I feel at home, I know I'm gonna make new memories that will last a lifetime.

I'm 17, and it's my final year, I walk up to these doors taking a glance at how everything has changed, how I've changed. I never expected to be here and as much as I'm ready to graduate and become more in this life, I can't let go. I was 4, excited and ready to see the world and now I'm 17 living it, yet so scared, these schools that I once called a second home now but a memory. I've learnt to walk now it's time for me to fly, leaving behind this home from the nest that's been built over the years, just like all the other students wondering these long hall, until it was time for them to take there final walk.

My first love, why do you promise things you knew you could never deliver, you told me once you would never hurt me again that you loved me and that you were sorry. So I forgave because I loved you so much that I could not let go and yet, you did it again I’ve been told to wait and see what happens because what if, but I don’t think I can. You hurt me terribly I don’t know why you stopped talking to me again. See this is what I thought till about a year ago, it took so many years for me to let go and now Im finally at peace. The thing is I'm older now, well not that much older, because it's only been three years but the point is I get it now I finally understand, we were never meant to be together. You were supposed to be a learning lesson in my life, back then all I could do was cry and be in constant heartbreak and wonder why, why was I not enough. I wanted to change who I was for you and not in a good way. But see the thing is I was enough then and I am enough now maybe not for you, but for myself and for my person, my other half. I know what to look for in the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, I know how to love myself for me and only me. Although it pained me, you were the lesson I needed.

See the things is for me to hate someone is the hardest thing in the world. You could treat me like trash and I would still care about you, but oh how I despise the fact that the person who first laid there eyes on me, who was supposed to protect me from any wrong doing, can tell me they love me but show me nothing but disappointment. In all reality I know that they despise the fact that I breath the same air as them, and yet they never notice it like for once in your life, stop and think hey maybe everything i have ever said to her or done has caused her nothing but pain, maybe she didn’t want to live anymore or exist in this plain because of me, which one day I hope you know as true.

Everything will always be my fault, not the other two that live in this house, which you so eagerly wanna call a home. From this day forward it will not be my fault, because although I will never be perfect in your eyes and the only perfect person in your eyes is him who I shall forever hate. I myself know who's fault it really is, you.

The job of poet seems like it would have a rather simplistic answer, which would be to entertain the reader, with the words spewed from the mouth of the writer. Although for me a poets duty is too either save the reader from its untimely depression or in one fell swoop kill its audience. Many don't notice it, but to me a writer, I see how easily a poet can twist its readers thoughts. You can have the best day going for you, but once you lay your eyes upon that word, that one specific word it will lure you deeper and deeper, until it can finally sink its teeth into you. Just like how, if you were to start falling down the rabbit hole, how just one read can save you from going to far where you may never escape.