From a young age I revered you

Called you my number one man

You seemed like the perfect father

But every glass ceiling eventually breaks

The cracks began when I was 10

Daddy, I have had to kill you

Though you’ve already died in the eyes of many

Reverence escapes me, replaced by hatred

No more will I seek validation

From the man with the bottle

In the Irish tongue, you stumble and slur

Fulfilling every stereotype

Your eyes dip with forced fatigue

And your temper skyrockets

So high, high, high

High is when you love me most

When you smoke your pipe and

Put on those rose colored glasses

I could never talk to you in these times

The tongue stuck in my jaw

You snore with an Irish brogue

Erin go bragh-gh-gh

Nana and Pop-pop would be ever so proud

To know that you maintained the traditional role

Of belligerent patriarch

It is too hard to love you now, isn’t it

Seeking validation where respect has run dry

How can I ask someone to love me

When they clearly only have enough room

To love them self

Daddy, you can lie back now

There’s a stake in your diseased heart

My mother is dancing with glee

She never really liked you

They despised you behind closed doors

But no more, daddy, I’m done hating me

And have begun to hate you

Daddy, daddy, you b**tard, I’m through