Daddy personal Struggle

His little girl cry's out in the still of the night.

Daddy isn't home, He's out looking for a fight.

No money in the bank, no food on the table.

He's in and out of jail so his paycheck isn't stable.

Popping pills till his body is numb,

He swears one day He's going to use the gun.

So he chokes down the bottle, He's a mouse of a man.

He says "It's hard to get by with two broken hands"

He's spitting excuses, He's pushing blame.

But everyone knows "broken records don't change"

So he's off again, searching for his fix,

Throwing women and alcohol in the mix.

Just business as usual, Age old  thrills.

Not a penny to his name so He's footing the bills.

He stumbles in the door around 3 AM,

His daughters in the hallway, looking up at him.

Her stomach is as empty as her swollen eyes,

Her tiny heart has been broken one too many times.

Not a passing glace as he heads to bed,

He has bugs under his skin and voices in his head.

He's a disease, a stilt to the limb.

Neglecting his baby because his world revolves around him!

He's been knocked down, Drug out. He's backing down, copping out.

He's giving up on life because "that's what life's about"

He has a crippled sense of reality,

He's Elite in the bowels of society.

Living off disability and welfare checks,

tightening the noose around his neck.

If there was a "reverse" he'd keep it in drive.

He's perfectly happy decaying inside.

Because, to recognize his failure would be to recognize defeat.

He'd recognize he's everything he swore he'd never be...