I don't think we get a choice in who are parent's are,
for if we did I would not have chosen my father.
I know I should not talk ill of the dead, but my father gave me nothing to talk of other than this. He was a dark man, a sick man, though do not blame him for all his problems. I do blaming him for the shame and fear that has lived inside me for 31yrs.
My father was a drunk and not a very happy one. Though many people have told me that he was a wonderful, caring man. I however have never meant such a man. The man I knew left me and my sister outside bars asleep in the car as he got drunk and played games of pool.
My father was the man, who stood over me with knives between his fingers and pretended to be freddie, because to him it was funny and it made his new wife laugh.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.06 seconds at 6:25am on Nov 29, 2024 via server WEBX1.