I Hate Him

I hate him.
I knew he'd leave.
Just like he did before.
Apparently, the others mean more to him.
The younger ones.
The ones with a good memory of him.
The ones he stayed for.
He didn't stick around to see me grow up.
He left.
Just like he's doing now.
He's going back to be with them.
And I have to stay here.
He's going to miss my special day.
My graduation.
My prom.
My days.
Days that he should be there.
Everything a father should see.
He's no father.
I claim no relation.
But it still hurts.
To know that he's not even trying.
That he doesn't care enough.
He loves them more.
Would rather give them a perfect memory.
Than show me that mine is wrong.
That he can be a good person.
I hate him.
Or, I want to hate him.
But for some reason I can't.
I want for him to be someone I can care about.
I want him to be someone who cares about me.
I want him to be a father.
I want him to be the father he never was.
The father I was robbed of.
I have another father.
One who cares.
But it still doesn't stop me from craving his affection.
From wanting him to be there.
Even though he doesn't matter.
Or he shouldn't.
I hate him.
I want to hate him.
But I can't.
I can't let go of that last hope.
The chance he could turn around.
So I'll go on hating him.
Until I really do.