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Dad
I was born with an illness, that has no cure. From an early age, I've learned to endure. Both my parents did drugs and drank. My dad would come home with breath that stank. They were out of control and completely Wild. Me, myself, I was only a child. Late at night I would hear them fight. It was nothing new, It happened every night. Sometimes I can still hear his angry voice. I would have disappeared, if I was given a choice. Scared and alone, I'd lie thier in bed. I can still remember all the tears I shed. I always felt as though I was to blame. My stomach would hurt with guilt and shame. One day my mother had finally had enough. She kicked him out, with all of his stuff. When he left my life would change. Just not having him around, felt so strange. I thought he would come back, but he never did. All I ever wanted was a father, like any other kid.
©ryan
©ryan
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