When I look into the mirror
I'll tell you what I can see,
I see a shell of the man
I know that I'm supposed to be.
I see the damage from
broken trust, the lies and the deceit;
A man who contemplates
his demise multiple times a week.
I feel weak;
And honestly,
that's not someone I'm proud to be.
Questioning if my daughter's
ever going to be proud of me,
it cuts deep.
I never wanted her to have a broken home,
or have to deal with the fact
that her parents couldn't get along.
Is it wrong
that a part of me wishes that I was gone?
Hard to be strong
when you're aware that your family's torn.
I get by but the time
without her feels so annoying.
It's tedious to survive
until she's back in arms.
The days without her
seem so long but when she finally arrives,
peace melts into my mind,
I see the love in her eyes.
No matter how hard some try
and the hole that they dig
love will radiate from it's core
because that's always my kid.
