Father of the Year

Late nights waiting up to make sure you came home.
In the basement next to the cold, dark corner of the concert wall you would roam.
My rusted drawer with what used to me mine,
filled up with your bottle caps all in a line.
Bottles and Bottles of that liquorish smell.
Bottles wasted on holes, tears I’ve cried in my closet, swollen knuckles as well.
Bottles wasted on fights at night,
bottles wasted on slammed doors ,nothing ever goes right.
Dinners where it was mom and I and the stress on mom’s face.
The pain of some perfect woman, suffering from your mistake.
Lined up pills by your bed, you can’t even feel the pain from your drunken high.
You think that will take your pain away, well that’s just a lie.
What about my pain? My pain refuse to trust you.
Now you try to come into my life with a new angel on you.
But it’s too late now, I’m done drowning father.
I’m done drowning in a puddle of your lies mixed in with my bloody tears so don’t bother.
When was the last time that it was about me?
No hugs, no kisses because you’re so free.
Just a cig in your hand, beer to your left, life is complete as can be.





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