DADS
My life has been tough,
At times even rough;
I was the youngest of seven,
Blessed by the man up in heaven;
My brothers were bigger and stronger by far,
So they'd pick on me, making life very hard;
I loved them both, as brothers do,
When I wasn't looking, I'd be hit by a shoe;
We'd laugh and go riding our bikes everyday,
That's what we did, what we did they call play;
My father was busy at work every day,
He never had time for us kids, so he'd say;
How much I hated him for not being there,
Cause as a child, I thought he didn't care;
As I grew older and became a man too,
I began seeing, how it's not always true;
It wasn't his fault, that he wasn't always there,
It wasn't his fault, and he did really care;
I was there, the night that he died,
I found out then, that he really had tried;
By then it was too late,
For my father had died;
John Farthing
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