Father hear me now.
The man I was, you knew me not.
Before now you would not listen.
I traveled those tortured years
struggling to be what was expected of me,
fighting the reason I lived a pathetic lie
when confronted by your idea of the person
you would have made of me.
Now teasingly I lie here,
a specter of the son you once envisioned.
In my cold pallid palm
is the deliverer of my parting shot
which, now unmuzzled, begins to evaporate
it’s smouldering contempt and hate
into the breathless crimson calm.
Little never did you know...
That your denial, That my cowardice,
would cause this persistent vision
of a prodigy punctured by the consequence
of his own misguided hand;
That our vanity, That our stubborn pride,
would leave a taunting ghost,
a shattered reflection, to remind all
of the man who will never return;
That the lies I told, That the truth you feared,
were the corporeal instruments
which pinioned us to this unresolved state.
