It was a lovely Christmas Eve morning
When I was awoken suddenly
He had stumbled in drunk
With something to tell me
My father passed away that day
After our last conversation
It sucks cause he spoke about loving me
All while speaking hatred.
He told me why he hated my Mom
And why I "ruined his life"
He told me it wasn't entirely my fault
But my birth caused him great strife.
He told me that I would amount to nothing
That a Man I could never be
He told me that I was shit
But then he said that he loved me.
He called me names over the years
But thankfully none of them stuck
His actions taught me how not to be a man
And his disappearing from my life for a time I attribute to luck.
He was a very talented man
Thought his hate got the better of him
He learned to perform many crafts
But in the sea of life he never quite learned to swim.
He drowned himself in sorrow he created
A life, according to him, only filled with pain
But I thank God each and everyday
The only thing we shared at the end was My last name.
I can honestly look into my soul and say
That I did all I could to make things work
But that wasn't always enough
To wipe away resentment and hurt.
I lost my father that day
And I wish we could've at least been good friends.
But the real shame in my father's passing
Is that he isn't even dead.
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