When I was seven years old I lost my dad to a mental illness known as schizophrenia. Yes, he was still living; his lungs were still breathing & his heart still beating, but he was never my daddy anymore. He became simply my father; a man who helped contribute to my birth. I am now 23 but I often grieve the loss of my daddy & to cope I have written many pieces about him. I greatly appreciate the opportunity to share my work & to spread the awareness of schizophrenia.  Thank you & enjoy.

People say I made the wrong choices

But they weren't there

When the walls were filled with voices

When their were echos

Coming down the halls

And angry vibrations shook the

Foundation of the walls

They weren't there

When he came through my door

And after he was done

Left me crumpled on the floor

They weren't there

When teardrops fell from my eyes

My heart completely broken

From all of his lies

They weren't there

When I was wearing long sleeve shirts

To try and cover up bruises

Along with all the hurt

They weren't there

When all of this occurred

Therefore I believe

They shouldn't say a word

No judgement should

Be passed

As the truth

Was never asked