On the outside looking in
Amongst beasts, you left me to contend.
A roving disembodied man.
An Identity I must pretend.

Was it your father that made you this?
Was he the monster under your bed?
Was it jealousy, I'm curious.
Your silent fury, there's no missing it.

I'm just a shell in hell now, dad.
Of all the memories that we never had.
Left to beg for broken affection.
No expression, just your stone cold resemblance.

Do you think about me at all?
You're miserable, I know -
Is that why you don't text or call?
It's difficult,
To think about a face you rarely see.
But in my thoughts,
I daydream of the day you're missing me.

As we both burn through all the sand,
In our hourglasses,
Trickle pass, and now it's past us.

Hugs that were never clasped,
Laughter that was never laughed,
Rest in pieces at the bottom
Of our hourglasses.

Days in the shape of grains,
Tears in the shape of rain,
Run wild down the window frame,
Racing to the windowpane.

As I ponder pain by this windowsill,
What could've been, but was never real.
Looking out at beasts of men left to contend,
Who pretend a bond that had never been.