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You never know what you have till it's gone. One day, you'll say the same about me But then, I'll be done with your lies and charade.
You formed me yet you relish in me being broken Dancing with glee on the jagged bits. Soon it will come the piercing pain of me leaving and this time, never turning back.
You made me yet years flew by without even a shadow of your being All that was left then was me and a pack of wolves who devoured my innocence made me wish for death.
From your cursed loins came my life yet you wish me a painful demise; death by my own hands puppeteered by the sickening bouts of depression.
From your escapades I came to be Yet you taunt me thinking I can not speak, that I am completely broken adapted to your well played facade.
After all these years, you show up banging and tearing down my door. Expecting me to get along with spawns from your persistent, careless and despicable loins to love them as if I knew them once before. Dearest father, if you are reading this know that I am gone, and you are completely dead to me.
