on the coldest night of november,

when my sight was changed to see

that i was just some wide-eyed child

setting chase to an endless dream.

my bags were all packed up that night,

i had nothing stopping me

except for the writhered hand of dear, old dad,

who said i shouldn't leave.

and as he spoke, his chin shook light,

and his face was set aflame.

flushless but pale with haunting misery,

as he felt he was to blame.

i quickly shook his hand away

and looked into his eyes.

i said remember all those hard damn nights

you made my mother cry?

the way your work took the place of home

through winter, summer, fall.

you were making sure to break my heart

by never holding me at all.

you wipe those tears away old man

they won't change what i have to say,

i went eleven years without your help

to guide me on my way.

his body shook as he reached again

to hold me in his arms.

but i backed away so hastily

and said no more will you cause me harm.

i muttered my goodbyes must stay so short,

as they almost always are.

he said his wish was a hug for a dying man,

he'll never see me anymore.

as cruel and cold as he had been,

his reflection grabbed the door,

and said this is the way you'll remember me;

i can't forgive you anymore.