how could i allow this to happen, while berating you for doing it?
i guess, at the end,
i am my father's son.
i guess, at the end,
i am just as flawed.
in my self-centered pain, i fail to see things so simple and so obvious.
it took me a life and
a death to see it.
it took a losing of me and of you
to see it.
you didn't ask me for help, and i knew you never would.
i took the weight upon myself,
peace in angst.
i took the weight from you,
mercy in cruelty.
you held me like you never did, and you crumbled on me.
you held me,
like humans do.
you held me,
like fathers do.
with your thanking it clicked for me: you were bleeding too.
you never really thanked me,
not out of ungratefulness.
you never really thanked me,
you were never taught to.
how could i treat you, like your dad, as if you were a failure?
oh, Dad, how could i
not see it?
Dad, you were trying your best,
just as me.
you tried to raise me with the humanity you never had.
you had to give
what you never knew.
you had to teach
what you never learned.
how could i expect you to not fail at it, sometimes?
is failing at times not
humanity?
is trying even still not
humanity?
