Maybe my father drank
because his father died
when he was just a boy
Even so to excuse
his behavior in light
of his having become
Memory no longer
alive except in mind
of family and friends
Obliterate the past
of pointless arguments
and meaningless anger
Remember the living
only create values
if a legacy born
In sweat of hard labor
not within a prison
but beyond such confines
After much thought I see
my father did not know
how to be a good dad
Little do I describe
my father than myself
for my dad did his job
Dutifully he beat
into me his lessons
of blind rage and hatred
Anger born of absurd
circumstances follow
me the rest of my days
Yellow in cowardice
I live in fear of life
to die would be easy
Diminished hopes succeed
where pessimism fails
still the future survives
Ask me in twenty years
what I planned to retire
and I will say I wrote
Daily or near every
day or night to remove
this stain within my soul
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