He

My father never yelled at other people.
Now that I remembered,
Not even once.

Instead,
He takes it out on us.

The anger, frustrations, and hatred he has for the world.

No one knows.
Just us though.
Instead, everyone thought of his as righteous.

He demands many things,
But gives nothing in return.

Sometimes I feel sorry for him,
Sometimes I feel hatred,
And sometimes I feel nothing at all

I know he's not the worst,
He's not the best,
But I realized he's not in between either.

I don't know.
He's a very complicated person.

I just wish that someday he'll look back and realized that he didn't care, understand, listened, and loved us enough, that's why we all went away.