Dear dad,

From you I learned that anger was scary.
You never expressed it in a way that wasn't frightening.
Anger was always directed at someone or something,
You often voiced threats and I could only nod along because I was so afraid.

Ever since the day you burned the bridge we made,
The string that kept me full of hope; burned and faded away,
I'd lie to myself for a long time,
I protected you my whole life.

Because of you, I don't know how to feel mad.
It rarely happens but when it does,
It's usually directed at myself.
Because I don't want to scare or hurt anyone else.

I can't use my voice when I'm angry
I cry and step away,
Or wait until I get to my car to scream
as I drive home and feel hateful.

I hate my anger...
I feel disappointed
I'll never tell you but
I wish you had done better.