Daddy, What Did You Teach Me?

By Adam Kroloff

Daddy, what did you teach me?
The future's just ahead, but it's something I cannot see.
The past is a box of snapshots, but they make no sense to me.
Why do I keep them Daddy? Tell me what they mean.
Explain the situation, Daddy. Have I learned from what I've seen?

I'm not your good boy, Daddy. I'm not a chip off the block,
the chip is on my shoulder, Daddy, and the damn thing won't come off.

Mommy, what did you teach me?
There's people all around, and I try to bridge the gap.
I drone silly words at the voluminous herd, and I know that I'm vomiting
My friends are painfull, Mommy. They fill me with disgust.
Did you teach me not to love them, Mommy? Did you teach me not to trust?
I'm not your good boy, Mommy. I got no talent or wit.
The girls don't chase me, Mommy and my skin doesn't fit.

I'm a wrought iron scarecrow in Natures warm, indifferent palm,
alone in a field of mirrors, I must fight to keep my calm.
I'm a big, dead fish in a tiny, dried up pond.
Just inches from the river, just momments from the bond.

I'm a bramble covered statue that is screaming to be flesh.
I'm a molten lave snowman dressed in chicken wire mesh.
I'm the image in the mirror of myself that isn't me.
I'm a dove inside a raven singing, "Someone set me free!"
I'm a smiling demon laughing at you silly little men.
I'm a drunken man carousing untill all the fun is spent.