Daddy.

you.

you can paint me all the colors of hell

and sketch

me.

as the devil.

in your books.

of history

and for the sake of

posterity

and question

marks.

begging

answers of

blank spaces

and nonsense

makers

like me

and my noise

as you say.

i could care

more perhaps

but why?

you know too well

for books to explain

simple things

like existentialists

and this.

we are

through.

at least,

i speak the truth

and always will.

and i'm still.

not apologizing.

so air your

grievances

with my brother

or some other

audience

better suited

for your

purposes and

missed the mark

perceptions

question marks

i turned

upside-down

like

this hell

and house

you call a

home.

just once i made that mistake

too much

for you to take.

the truth

hurts

like i won't do

anymore

at hands

of yours

and yours.

too bad for blame's sake

my namesake

and honor

left

and straight on

till morning

came.

i hear it calling

my name.

and it's late

i am gone.

not like it matters

to you.

or yours.