When I was a kid,
An Angry Man lived in my home.
Everywhere I went, he was there.
Everything I did, made him angrier.
I was scared and confused.
People told me the Angry Man loved me,
But I only ever really saw Anger there.

When I was a teenager,
The Angry Man began to only visit my home
Instead of living there alongside us.
But when he visited it was just as scary and confusing.
I didn't know when he'd visit,
Or when the Angry Man would just be my dad.
So it was safest to treat him like he was always the Angry Man.

When I was an adult,
The Angry Man left my home.
Now he only visits in my nightmares.
Sometimes a ghost of him will still come around,
And I'll still get scared.
It's so easy to forget he's gone now,
When my dad's sighs and huffs sound so much the same.
When the Angry Man still appears behind his eyes,
Just for a moment.

Now I fear if I'll ever be free,
From The Angry Man that lives in my head.

More often than not I wonder
When I stopped saying "You're welcome"
When I was thanked
It seemed to have happened in a blink
One moment I'm using the manners taught to me
Ever since I could recall
The next moment I started saying "Of Course"
As if doing these favors
For other people was as natural
And sensible as breathing

Perhaps it started when I started giving away parts of me
For no cost at all
When did I become so painfully selfless?