Youre just like your father she said
not knowing that she was right
just not in the way she meant
the way she meant was that he was
a spitfire
a hoodlum
the kind of kid who'd start every fight
she didnt know however that he drank cheap beer
just like his father
for the same reasons
his clammy hands clasped around the neck of the brown bottle
as if he was trying to hold on to the little bit of fight he had left in him
he smoked cigarettes just like his father
for the same reasons
the smoke burning his chest
filling the emptiness that was left there from the many lovers who took what they wanted and left
he was broken and hurting deep inside
just
like
his
father
already emotionless and hardened from the years of struggles in his life
just like his father