Wretch, By Birth

Most interestingly, every time I’m involved in, or connected to anything bad; My mother most angrily exclaims, “You’re just like your wretched dad.” This frustrates and confuses me; because I don’t even remember him; How can we be so identical, when my memory of him is extremely dim? I can’t even recall his features, his walks, his smile: absolutely not anything. Mom remembers; she says I’m just like him; but, about him, she’s not talking. ”John, feed the animals,” ”Empty the garbage,” “Don’t be like your father.” Oh lawd! Do I daily have to hear this commotion? Oh my beloved mother! How could she possibly blame me for being like my wretched father, John? How!?! How was I responsible for her miserably poor choice of a man? I am a different human being; it’s only his image that she’s regrettably seeing. Must any innocent child believe that their father is the worst human being? If only; if I only knew him; I would most definitely have asked him why? Why did he make me so wretched like him? I need to know his reply. End By: Dion Penville