He was a broken man with no way out.
by Kat Secaida
Dad, is that you yelling at my mom?
Dad, is that you drinking and passing out on the couch?
Dad, I hid under the bed at the age of four because I was afraid of you.
Dad, is that you locked up?
Dad, is that you breathing in an inhaler installed in your car?
Dad, is that you in the hospital hooked up to all these machines?
Dad, where are you?
Dad, who are you?
Dad, what’s next?
Dad, how long will I have you in my life?
Dad, I hear you say, “I love you, you’re my little girl and I’m praying to God to let me live a little longer to see you grow just a little more.”
But nothing is promised, Dad, because I don’t have you.
You are a broken man with no way out.
You try to come back in, but I can’t forgive you, but I can feel bad for having a broken father but feel strong about being raised by a strong woman playing your role
Mother and Father.
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