Baby Daddy:
Who the hell do you think you are? Really? You think you can just take my life from me? Give me a damn baby, make me postpone college and have my whole damn family looking at me like I'm a fool? Shit, I am, because every time I go through your call logs you've talked to her. And I know you two doing more than just talking. And you're spending more time with her than the baby. Damn deadbeat.
And I realize our relationship is undefined, untitled. But I guess to you that means you're single. So do you and I'll do me.
Does it make you feel like a man to have a little bust down somewhere doing you good while I'm here in the basement of my parent's house with your kid? I see you buy more bags of weed than bags of diapers. And the only bottles I see you tipping are beer bottles. But I guess like you cried out when I was pregnant a year ago, you're scared. And you'll do better. That shit still hasn't come to past. And I keep on waiting.
Are those Wal Mart checks that you barely giving to your baby supposed to meet our survival needs? Should I be impressed that you stop by the house to see us twice a week? What the hell is that? Should I be okay with having to tell you to be a man, be a damn daddy?
But I guess you think you just father of the year because you strut in here with a pair of baby sized Nikes and an outfit. Well you're not. Me and my baby don't need your shit, or your inconsistent love. Nor do we need your dive-by visits. Stay the hell away. You don't deserve us.
But I can't seem to stop caring about your sorry ass. Believing in you like a colorful ass fairytale, except i'm dreaming in black and white.
Waiting for change,
Vee
No comments:
Post a Comment