A Daddy cruel.
My dad was real mean,
Far removed, just coldly cruel,
Threatening tones and flying fists,
The instruments of his Iron rule.
His dark moods and our bruises,
They were the norm,
Trying to guess who he was today,
Mother had to always conform.
Never had time for our childhood,
He never stopped to think,
Never ample money for the housekeeping,
But always ample money for another drink.
Mother knew her place in his life,
She always had his excuse,
She said he was tired and for us to behave,
She paid our price with his abuse.
No birthday cakes or days out,
No signs affection or pride,
Lost count of our punishments,
And the times mother and us cried.
Then one day dad got real ill,
He was looking for his redemption I guess,
Said that he did really love us all,
Sorry that his life was such a mess.
Shallow words from a shallow man,
My thoughts as he gasped for every breath,
Now he wanted us to be there for him,
As he faced a lingering death.
Finally the torment was over for him and us,
I can’t remember any tears by his bed,
Mother just kissed us all on the cheek,
Whispered He can’t hurt us now he is dead.
Things could have been so very different,
But he chose his way to rule,
We should have cherished photos and memories,
But no, just a legacy of a daddy cruel.
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