My father is a good man,
Well... sort of.
He's a better man than his father ever was and that should be good enough... I suppose.
He has gotten better though I would never tell him that it might be too late.
He asks me why I'm so angry, why I yell or have this weird sadness and tiredness in my eyes.
He does not understand that I learned it all from him.
I hate to admit that my father and I are similar in many ways.
For when I feel pure rage,
I know that I am my father's child.
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Haunted |+18|
PoetryA letter of all the things I cannot say out loud but am constantly thinking and being haunted by. Dark content used in the story Read at your own risk
