I never knew the wall of silence was you protecting us from what you went through

I never knew you not wanting to help me with my homework was your inability to read and write

I didn’t know the drink was your way of sounding out the voices

I didn’t know your prejudice was a result of you quitting school at thirteen and having to provide for your brothers and sisters

You never said much, faded into the sofa you slept on for your last fifteen years

I only realised after, that your odd comical moments were your way of saying sorry for being serious all the time

We called you the quiet man, it wasn’t so quiet up there, was it, Dad?

I now know it wasn’t me, us and them

And I now understand your rage whenever anyone had the nerve to use the word ******* around you and the way your body would shudder and catapult you into your mute state

Your automatic drill sergeant bellow that time I accidentally fell down the stairs

The odd tenner you’d slide into my hand on the quiet for pocket money when I knew that was the only money you had in the world

That pained look you had in your face at us judging you and you not being able to articulate the reason why you would be violent as you didn’t know why

Your gripe with the neighbours that consumed you, that made you want to do unspeakable things

Your feelings of loneliness, hopelessness, self loathing and misunderstandings in a home full of life, laughter and growth that you were unable to get involved in and embrace

I wasn’t there for you, the last few weeks, even when you were in hospital, I put my lust, my education, me first

I am just so grateful that my intuition kicked in on your last day here, I just knew I had to get that bus to see you

We didn’t speak for four hours, not a word passed but I listened to you take your last breaths and tell the dog “get down, I haven’t got it in me”

You left your last mark in the brushstrokes of paint on the walls in the back garden

Brushstrokes which were wavy, imperfect, rough around the edges but beautiful. Just like you, Dad

From birth, through younger years
You think adults are the best
They know it all, don’t question them
Even ones in stringy vests

But then through wide awakenings
From innocent teen eyes
Your conditioned way of thinking
Is shifting all the time

Morrison’s doors of perception
To Orwell’s “Nineteen Eighty Four”
Digesting Brown’s “Da Vinci Code”
What’s behind Dad’s study door?

I always thought there’s something
Something missing from Mum’s smile
Sincerity, yes that is it
Her sparkle’s light-yeared out for miles

I caught my College Tutor out
Her face was filled with dread
As I asked her complex questions
She rambled and went red

It’s not the work you contribute
That catapults you through
It’s who you know, not what you know
That gets you through round two

It’s realising the rich get rich
Capitalising on the poor
Mocha choco frappucinos
To Primani discount stores

It’s sweaty public transport
Followed by a gruelling shift
Evils from your sadist manager
For laughing at his quiff

Offered a promotion
Yes, they’ve recognised my worth
Then the disappointment fills the air
When they ask me to move turf

From Manchester to Liverpool
A fair distance I would say
But with two small kids and secretly
Another on the way

It’s either this or loss of job
This once was steady job
They’re packing up and moving out
To make room for some snobs

They’re all blagging it, they are
No one gets their dream come true
Kaleidoscope shapes are twisting
Now the truth is shining through

A positive is being aware
We’re all muddling through this life
From observation to motivation
I won’t become a stepford wife

I’ll make the best of this you see
I’ll make my family proud
I’ll bulldoze through eternity
Leaving my trail through the clouds