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15 years pass,
still staring at this blank page,
cause I just didn’t know what to say.
But I think I’ve got it figured out now...
 
It’s hard to believe you think you’re the best dad in the world,
when you refused to take custody of your two little girls.
Three and six sitting all alone,
wondering why Daddy wasn’t coming home.
Laying in bed crying, “Mommy, why’d he leave?”
and she’d lie and reply, “he doesn’t love me.”
 
But the truth behind why you split?
You can’t even speak words without spit–
—ting slurring words and nonsense.
So please, stop sending me belated birthday cards,
cause you don’t even remember my age.
It’s really not that hard,
just count back the years from when you left and add three.
That’s right, Dad, you left us,
there is no “we.”
 
I’m tired of pretending like nothing’s wrong,
and hiding all this anger in poems and songs,
never shown to anyone,
cause you don’t want them to hear.
But whatever, Dad.
Just go have another beer.

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