A Holiday Letter

Merry Christmas, Father.

I just thought I’d send you a letter,
To let you know that I’m still here,
And though it has been less than grand,
I’ve made it through another year.
I suppose that you should know
I have no winter clothes to wear,
And when in the past, I’ve asked for things,
You’ve shown that you don’t care.

You’re doing so well though, father,
What with all the nice things you own –
Acting like my younger sister
Is the only child you’ve ever known.
It makes me sick to think of you,
In front of that big screen T.V.
Wasting money, left and right,
And always forgetting about me.

Oh, your granddaughter is fine,
She’s grown out of her bassinet,
And as hard as we both work,
A crib’s a thing we can’t afford just yet.
She’s three months old and beautiful,
Though she’s never seen your face,
How can you take this out on her,
When I’m the big disgrace?

I think I hate you, father,
For all you’ve done to me –
You practically spit in my face,
When I started my own family.
Yes, I know I’m young
And I stumble from time to time,
But this not so perfect world I’m in,
Is mine and only mine.

You really are an unfair man,
Though you aim for just and true.
I’m ashamed of myself, sometimes,
For ever respecting you.
So take a look around and see
The life that you call yours.
Have I hit a home run yet, dad?
I’m just trying to even the score.