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Rated: NPL · Poetry · Dark · #1564377
The only way I can let out my frustration over my father's untimely death.
God is second
to this - my mind.

Darkness at core
teaching survival

My negativity was born here
soon replaced

Cynics call me cynical
in their wretched way

Hurtful heroes; buried deep
my chest, my hole

I dreaded the day...
You hated my ways

But you saw none of what I am
What I've become

Is shaped by you, through you
by you, I am

Failing and falling and sinking
my hole, my trap
my cave.

Your dust
it taunts me

To be more
or less; the same.

My mind's eye shows you unblemished
but the bottle took care of that

In your last breath
you were as absent as I

Where are you Daddy?
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