I sometimes want to cry,

yet, denial gets in the way.

Like I’m holding back the truth,

I don’t always, just want to die.

A long time ago I imagined,

my life to be bittersweet.

I wanted to be like my dad,

strong enough to be happy alone.

I always hoped I would be loved,

thought of as a kindly dad.

Life has tricks, it plays upon

our most vulnerable selves.

I can’t get past looking at now,

how it’s always going to be

the same routine, same anxiety,

until one day, I can’t know when.

It’s then I’ll say good night.

Maybe then, it’ll be all right.