My father always said he wanted a oldest son.
He would say he wanted a oldest son that could hunt, fish and do so much more.
Even if I, the oldest, do all those things, even if I am a boy now, why does he still complain?
Why am I never enough?
Why isn't he happy with the oldest son he wanted?
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Tell The Wolves Im Coming Home
PoetrySad poems. ORIGINAL ON WATTPAD I HAVE COPYRIGHT