NOT MY FATHER’S CHILD

He donated his sperm to my existence. 
He married my mother. 
He provided shelter and food. 
He was never my dad. 

He paid for most of my college education. 
He beat me and my mother. 
He beat his own mother. 
He was never my dad. 

He threw me down the stairs. 
He threw me to the floor. 
He locked me in the basement. 
He was never my dad. 

He often exploded with violent rage. 
He ruled our home with his temper. 
He forced us to live in terror. 
He was never my dad. 

I do not reject him as my dad. 
No. No. No. Not at all. 
He rejected himself as my dad. 
He disowned me as his child. 

Every time he beat me, 
every time he beat my mother, 
every time he exploded in rage, 
he disowned me. 

Every time he slapped me, 
every time he called me insulting names, 
every time he threatened violence, 
he disowned me. 

He gave me post-traumatic flashbacks, 
post-traumatic heart injury – 
the “gift” which never stops giving. 
He disowned me. 

He often called me bastard, 
a code word for his resentment – 
my birth disrupted his life.  
He was never my dad. 

I wept at his funeral, 
not because I lost my dad, 
but because I never had a dad. 
He was my biological Monster. 

I felt inward relief and grief, 
knowing I would never again 
suffer his direct violence. 
He was never my dad. 

– Healing Heart Warrior (Tom M.)