Many a time have I induced my father’s ire;
I consistently refuse to ever give in to his desire.
“One day you’ll be just like me boy,” he affirms to himself.
Desperately hoping sins of the father really do become sins
of the son.
Many a time have I induced my father’s hate;
Perhaps it’s true that I really will become nothing at this
rate.
Broken bottles, smoldering filters, impulsive insults, and
derisive glares
Provide a soundtrack and background to a nightmare that
seems never-ending.
Many a time have I induced my father’s disgust;
My honest wishes for the future only lead to further
distrust.
“You can change dad; you have it in you,” I encouragingly
whisper to myself.
But all that courage dissipates when I see him come home
every night, bleary eyed.
Many a time have I induced my father’s regret;
He stares at me like some part of the past he wants to
forget.
Though his body may ache and quake and his lungs wheeze and
seize,
His face only shows true anguish whenever his calls back
home are left ringing.
Many a time have I induced my father’s affection;
He announces to me over and over how I’m his path to
absolution.
However, did you ever truly love me father?
Did I ever truly love you?
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