When I look at him, I see a selfish waste of skin that only existed to show me how brutal this world is.
When I hear his voice, it sends cold shivers up and down my spine. A warm, but empty voice that holds excuses instead of comfort.
His scent I was familiar with was a comforting, odd smell. Nonetheless, I was in love with it. His new scent reeks of alcohol and cigarettes. It makes me sick to my stomach.
His once smooth, clean baby face has turned rough with porcupine like hair caused from his lack of hygiene.
I call him monster for lack of a better word.
He was once referred to as "father".
Hope you enjoyed my father's day poem.
