My father told me the importance of hunting:
It proves your ability to survive as a superior being
among a hierarchy of animals with
humans being at the very top of it, hence the murders.
My father never told me that life was a lot like the jungle
except here, I’m the prey due to the existence of
a human’s biggest fucking weakness: emotions.
My superiority does not compare to the superiority of other humans.
My father never told me that I could be speared,
gunned down, stabbed, caught, tortured, mutilated, jailed,
or anything remotely close to the cruelty I have been taught to
commit against the living, breathing beings of the jungle
My father never told me that feelings can be predators
bigger than bullies in jerseys and pompoms.
So I hide from those predators for a long time,
long enough to convince myself that these feelings were extinct.
But somehow I was blindsided by your soft petals and breakable stem
Darling, in this jungle full of snakes and poison ivy,
you were the only flower that grew to love me.
You were the greatest thing my father never told me about.
“What I learned on my own”