Son of A Man

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
poem about my pops.

Submitted: March 11, 2012

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Submitted: March 11, 2012

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in his mind he drank the alcohol
in the end, the alcohol drank him
consumed in himself, he let slip by
things that meant the most, that cannot die
like a broken record every night
intoxicated, and always in a fight

he ashed his ciggerette in my hand
just so i could understand, how cruel the world is
he blew the smoke into my eyes
so i couldn't see , a father who wasn't really there

you left me nothing but your middle name
you bound for the land of oceans and sunshine
didn't look back, didn't make a sound
ask me to visit? ill visit when your in the ground
a grudge to be held for an eternity
not the life i thought it would be

he ashed his ciggerette in my hand
just so i could understand, how cruel the world is
he blew the smoke into my eyes
so i couldn't see , a father who wasn't really there

a family portrait torn into pieces
the piece of you, i throw in the fire
i could say i love you, but id be a liar
a father figure that i never had
wern't here to teach me whats good, and whats bad
you threw me aside and you crossed the line
im not doing terrible, but im not doing fine


© Copyright 2018 Andrew Wood. All rights reserved.

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