Through the twisted vines

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I didn't grow up in a burning house
There was no smoke
There was no heat
Miles away you couldn't tell the difference
I grew up in a house that felt like it was flooding
You couldn't quite tell when the water would rise
But you felt it with every step you took
The unnecessary loud splash of footfalls
Of sagging and wet denim
My father is a delicate man
He's a survivor
He knows how to tread water
Something I was never taught
He speaks of stuff he refuses to understand
And he speaks as if he was all knowing
My father is a brilliant man
A man that got stuck
A man who had to provide
My mother is a strong women
A strong women that came from generations of strength
She speaks with loudness
She speaks with conviction
She may not know every worlds wonder
But she knew how to survive
She tried to teach me
She tried to find a way out
My mothers hold was never gentle
But it was warm
She couldn't quite stop how strongly she held me
As the water continues to consume my home
My father got stuck
My mother couldn't get away
The water continues to rise
My father treads water
And my mother's strength keeps her afloat
And I feel like I got the worse from the two my mothers strength without the warmness
I have my father's brilliant's without the filter
And I was never taught how to tread water
I'm not so sure how to survive this drowning house
But once I do I'll make sure to live