The cats in the cradle...or something.
Hey there pops, how you doing? Never guessed that in my head thoughts of you would be brewing. Your cat is not in his cradle so I guess you'll never see, this side of your boy that came from your side of family. You cant this see this man or the strife that I've gone through. Cant see in me what i see in me that reminds everyone of you. It's been ten years since we have seen your chest to my eye. Ten long years of thinking of you and learning not to cry. I remember the day that I showed up on your porch. My fear burning inside me as a overdosed torch. I knocked on the door and was greeted by my sister. With a blank look on her face and that question of "who are you mister?" "I'm your big brother Mike and I'm looking for Paul", She ran from the door not remembering me at all. The faint image of you standing behind your metal screen. Almost shock in your eyes as to what you have seen. I stood there choking on questions I just had to ask. You whispered "it's my bedtime" and shut the door on my ass. I remember the pain as i walked away stun. My father shut the door on his only son. "My father only gave me a name" truer words never spoken. Twenty eight long years of living with a heart that is broken. I learn from others mistakes just like you told me to. I learned from your mistake to not be a father like you. I would like to believe that someone just didn't hug you enough. Somewhere in your past that you had it just as rough. I want to believe that you really didn't want to throw me away. I need to believe that you just didn't see another way. I guess I won't know what the real answer could be. Just like you won't know what kind of son you had in me.