His arms were meant to be my comfort,
Yet they felt cold, unkind, untrue.
Never had I felt so unlucky,
Haunted by a pain that continually grew.
A child should never bear such burdens,
Yet mine weighed so heavy every day.
I wished for peace, a fleeting dream,
But hope, like light, keeps slipping away.
They said that fathers bring their children joy,
But mine was nothing like they claimed.
His gaze was as fierce as the lions roar,
His voice rumbling like thunder, Scary.
His words cut deep, his love was absent,
Never proud, never loving, never kind.
A face so dark, so full of shadows,
A heart so empty, cold, confined.
The love of my father was so distant, unknown,
A warmth I longed for but never received.
Can I blame my mother for choosing a monster?
Maybe, maybe not
His arms were never the home I believed.
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