I came as close as I ever have
to seeing my father cry tonight.
My sisters don’t respect him,
and in discussing this
and how it wasn’t right,
I was reminded,
and I reminded him, that
in a seemingly distant past,
I had acted an ass
that fateful day.
Struck by lover’s lunacy
and clouded eyes, I did rise
and take my leave of him,
and cursed his name.
For I was young, you see,
and had no shame.
I thought I could make it.
In fact, I gave little thought
to making it.
All I knew was
happiness for some time
was to be found
in her alone.
And I found no harm
in taking it.
My naivety hadn’t fully
been challenged yet,
so, I was still
a little boy inside.
My self-security
hadn’t developed yet.
I became
her little toy to ride.
My family,
and loyalty,
and all the virtues
I once held strong,
were given a backseat,
and I switched the dial
in search of our song.
My father looked at me,
his eyes quickly got misty red.
The whiskey eased his mind,
and this is what he said:
“That day you left…
it tore me up inside.
I called your mother
and asked,
What should I do?
and I sat here, and I cried.
I just want you to know, son,
I was only, as I always do,
trying my very best to guide you.”
I can never take away
the pain I caused,
just as I can’t erase
the pain I’ve been through.
But often pain
serves as the best teacher.
So, to you, who I left with,
who hurt me so,
I want to sincerely say
thank you,
I’m finally letting you go.

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