#toxic father poem

[aphrodites-serenade]

My father is a small child in a man's body

I say a lot of things about my father. He's aggressive, dismissive, and self-centered. And yet I can't help but pity him. I see how his eyes look when he sits alone at the dinner table. This wasn't the life he envisioned for himself when he was a young man. He likes to say he doesn't need to prove himself to anyone but lies to his coworkers for validation. He puffs his chest and criticizes himself in the mirror. He swears it's a habit he wants to break. I'd like to think that that's what he sees when he yells at me and my brother. His father taught him that real men don't cry. I guess what I mean to say is that he's still a small child trying to be a man. He's failed. And I could try to hug him, give him the comfort he's never felt, but he'd push me away. He's a scared boy who doesn't know what he's doing here.

[thesongsofautumn]

~happy father’s day i guess

[kissesbeneaththescars]

🎉🎉 I WISH I WAS DEAD 🎉🎉

[bitikoyku]

In a home where cold indifference finds its place,

A child lights a flame with a fragile grace.

Burning memories of what could have been,

To warmth the heart that once locked within.

Seeking solace in the fire's glow,

A warmth they'd never come to know.

In the crackling grow, they find a space,

A fleeting comfort in the fire's embrace.

[forestgirlpoems]

are your feet sore?

from trampling all over

the promises you litter on the ground

I hope the glass shards

of my heart that you broke

make your legs bleed

if not your soul

[pumpkins-collective-life-stories]

Sorry

Im sorry you missed the day I came home.

I'm sorry you left my Mom all alone.

I'm sorry you missed the first time I walked.

And I'm sorry you missed the first time I talked.

I'm sorry you missed tucking me in at night.

I'm sorry you missed turning off my light.

I'm sorry you missed me getting my first fright.

And I'm sorry you weren't there to tell me it's all right.

I'm sorry you never really cared,

Never bothered to make a call.

In fact, I'm not sorry in the slightest bit.

I'm not sorry at all.

You should be sorry,

Sorry to me,

And sorry to all of us,

For what you couldn't be.

A Dad is supposed to love,

Protect, worship and care.

A Dad is supposed to do all of this,

But most importantly be there.

But you couldn't provide,

Protect or care.

You couldn't worship.

And you couldn't be there

Because you made the choice

To never try with me.

Sure, you're on and off now,

But it's just too late, you see.

I mean, I get it now.

And although this makes me sad...

You will always be my father.

You'll just never be my Dad.

[happydahlia]

I know who you are

You’ve never really known me,

I am not what you decided I should be.

I am not defined by the memories you choose to remember,

Or the ones you conveniently forget.

I am more than the mask I showed you,

The mask I wore to protect myself from your lies.

You’ll never really know me,

I won’t let you, you lost that privilege long ago.

When you left me broken hearted,

And all my love for you departed.

As your ego shatters, shards shining as they fall,

I’m building up my inmarcesible wall.

I hope the words I wrote you will make your tears descend,

A drop for each lie, for each pain you caused, karma always finds you in the end.

For now I know the real truth.

You’re not a good person, not the kind soul you paint yourself to be.

And you’ve never known me at all.

A/N:

TW: talk of mental health, poor mental health, abusive family member, trauma

If you couldn’t tell by (or haven’t read) my other work, it’s pretty clear that I don’t have the healthiest mental state. A few weeks ago I was improving greatly, but that all came crashing down just over a week ago. I had some things happen within my family that I’m not going to share here, but they ultimately led to my decision to fully cut contact with my biological father. This poem is not one of my best, it’s not really good at all lmao, but it’s my way of getting the closure I need. I am so sorry if you can relate to it in any way, but if you do i understand how you feel and you are not alone.

As always, feel free to share how you interpret or relate to this poem, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. <3

@world-seen

[lizziessecretcorner]

[paincorner]

I need a father. I need a mother. I need some older, wiser being to cry to. I talk to God, but the sky is empty.

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[hdmiports]

every time i interact with my mother i feel like im going insane

[aphrodites-serenade]

Noisy house, noisy mind

The house that drained so much of my life force is growing smaller by the second.

I never did say goodbye to my bedroom, the only room that provided solace.

There was no time for words.

Even in the midst of my escape, my parents spared no kind words.

I knew then,

there was no use in one final look.

Why remember something you’ll never come back to?

I could begin to erase those memories, I thought.

I could push back all the screams, all the tears,

Push them far enough so they’ll never resurface.

��

The empty room that now lies before me is mine to change.

A new beginning, or so I thought.

How could I have known?

No one who leaves a noisy house has a peaceful mind.

A seed was planted in me before I was born.

It has grown into a terrible weed, into the shape of something like a man.

My fingers dig deep into my scalp,

Attempting to drive him out of my head.

He does not leave. Will he ever leave?

–

Oh, I beg you to answer me.

How am I supposed to heal,

when I haven’t yet escaped that horrid place?

The screams, the tears,

they’re louder this time, so much louder.

I fear I’ll die, oh dear, I’ll die.

This must be a joke.

I’ll die along with the same house that ruined me.

Only then will I get rid of this noisy mind.

[imbadatparking]

it feels impossible, but you are looking me. it feels impossible, but i'm still breathing.

there's a craves left behind where cracked blood-spilled bitterness leaked into the hole of my chest. there's a chiropractic shift in your tone of words and the taste of the tears on my cheeks. there's a divide between us, a divide you created with no work at all, just a set of keys and a crane and a staircase.

you slam doors and stomp around and yell, all God-almighty, repent for my sins, all blubbering apologies and weak, knocking knees, all this time, i know you're leaving for real.

my hair is wrapping around my throat and grab it and pull and i pull and i pull, the way you would've, had you been able. your fingers are ice cold and numb and i don't think they move anymore, i think they permanently stay in the shape of a fist.

how did we get here? i want to ask, it feels impossible.

| k. - it feels impossible.

(written for @/neon0strich literary journal based around the prompt hair)

[piscesthepoet]

knock on wood

[inbetween-life-and-sanity]

And even though I love you I hope I will never be anything like you.

[devotedlystrangewizard]

having to celebrate christmas with my abusive stepdad vs the fact that its the last christmas ill ever have to celebrate in this godforsaken household

[plscallmeeren]

H E A D C A N O N S

Loki Laufeyson / Odinson x Reader

Request: no just feeling in love

Summary: completely mixed batch of romantic headcanons including fluff, smut and some toxic things that would probably come into play at some point

Warnings: some general sexual stuff but nothing rough lol; mentions of extreme jealousy etc

Word Count: about 1K

He loves recommending books to you and talking about them afterward. It used to be him accidentally gushing about a book (usually poetry or fairy tales) and at some point you just started reading them without him knowing. Eventually he gave up on keeping the titles secret.

At first he was put off when you weren't too submissive during sex, but he adopted the "treat her like a Queen" idea and now, without diminishing his own pride, he looks forward to worshipping you every day.

He loves dancing - spinning you around the room, slow steps, but very close - anything. If you are in a room filled with of people he can show you off, but alone it is just as intimate.

When he's insecure, he can revert to considering himself superior. You generally let him be aloof for a while before addressing the problem directly, but it's a struggle every time to make him admit why he has low self esteem.

He has a treasured copy of Nordic fairy tales with beautiful illustrations that he shows only you. He lets you tenderly flip the pages, in awe at wonders like forest fairies, nymphs, glamorous witches and hags alike. Not like Thor, that 'oaf'.

One night, you sat on the edge of the your shared bed, legs bare, teasing him for how desperately he wanted you. He knelt before you, whispering "please", kissing his way up from your ankle to your thigh on one leg.

Loki hates it when she is a woman and is handles awkwardly at first. You have a habit of immediately talking to her or circling an arm around her waist when she enters the room so that she can't worry to the point of turning back into a male body.

He loved hearing his name from your lips as he pleasures you: "Loki, Loki, Loki". It is only right for a god to be subject to whispered prayer.

He makes fun of/critiques Thor a lot, but in quieter moments he loves telling childhood stories and Thor's adventures. On darker days he will ask whether you're sure you wouldn't prefer Thor - after all, everyone else did.

He lives to kiss you. It sounds dopey, but anywhere, anytime, in front of everyone - kissing you on the lips, on your neck, hair, chest, arms, especially hands. Anything to taste you, to feel as close as possible.

She feels particularly sound in her own body when you fuck her as a woman. When she's spread out before you, bare, there's no hiding who she is, and you are more than happy to ravage her as much as their common body.

Loki doesn't need much sleep. At night, he sometimes feels lonely and yearns for the halls of Asgard. He cries quietly in bed, careful not to wake you. Some days, he retreats to the library and sobs, cries absorbed by surrounding stories.

Tea. Tea. Tea. Always. And every time he makes a cup for himself, you get one, too. He knows your favourites and which ones you like at what time of day.

He writes you letters. Love letters full of poems - some of his own hand and others quoted - and confessions. Every swooping letter is drawn with careful precision, every reference a new find from the library in honour of you. Such a hopeless romantic. When you write such letters back, leaving them with him before he wakes, he almost sheds tears of bliss.

If you have tattoos or scars or burns - anything of the like - he will trace them, stare at them as he comes, turned on endlessly by every unique mark on your body. All his. No one else knows every freckle like him.

He is possessive. He always has been, and as much as you try and calm him and prevent jealousy... sometimes he yells at you for talking to someone else too much. Sometimes he whispers that you have betrayed him like his father. Sometimes you find him searching through your things; what for, you will never know.

Loki loves your laugh, and he will do the most ridiculous things to earn it. Before knowing you, he would have considered every antic and joke beneath him and embarrassing, but he hardly cares anymore. That is, until Thor laughs so loud from beside you that he can't hear anything at all.

Stargazing. He points out every constellation, knows every myth - some are inspired by people he knows.

He reads to you. He takes you on surprise picnics and plans fancy evenings.

He loved how you see through his lies and tall tales, but take him seriously or laugh anyway. Every one of them has a grain of truth, after all, and it doesn't make him untrustworthy.

He doesn't really swear, but secretly likes it when you sound harsh talking to others.

Loki will talk about your future all the time, especially after making love, rambling on about your house, lifestyle, garden, parties.

You talk for hours at once, incorrigible.

No one can calm him down like you. The moment you touch his arm when he's yelling at Thor or anyone else, it ceases, but he sometimes pretends to be angry a bit longer, just enough to get to your room and keep his pride in front of the others.

Loki loves you. Selflessly. Eternally. Insatiably.