Casting day after day as the one to give away.
letting his demons wisper sweet nothing's and liking the way they pull him down.
My father is a man of sadness.
Spending every breaking moment on his knees as if praying could bring back all the the things he lost in the hurricane of life.
He breaths in the chemicals of sorrow letting it drift him away.
My father is a gullible man.
Letting my mother pull the strings of his so tightly strung puppet cords,dragging him along her puppet show,swinging him by the neck his blood rung face increasingly growing purple he smiles and whispers he loves her.
My father is a day away.
He's cracking through his frame watching as he slowly starts to Chisle down.
disentigrating from life pulling in and out of reality, no longer caring when his time may be embracing death in a hug as if it is an old friend he is ready to join again.
My father is only a fragile crumbled down peice of the man he use to be.
