I hated you so much for making me your slave,
Stoled everything I had from me.
You made our family life miserable,
And I blame you for my mother's death.

Now you are in the death bed,
And am I suppose to feel for you?

You would think I would feel certain level of sympathy to your current circumstance, but I feel numbness in this endeavor.

You think I would feel at least an empathy,
But your diabetes got the best of you,
Because you never listened to the warnings.

I feel this coldness in me like the Minnesota winter,
And I thought I would never have to go back.

Do you want me to ask for your forgiveness oldman?

I have no desire to go to Minnesota for you,
And whatever is left of your son died in me.

What the hell am I suppose to feel?