Brothers and sisters I had none
The start of father’s passing had begun.
As I, only one, and left with the chore
To watch over and care
Till his heart beat no more.
I pondered the former
And what transpired before.
My time spent brooding about
Things as his son I felt he left out.
Inspired by wrath, goad by disdain.
Spurred on by bitterness
My heart stayed the same.
When his time drew closer
And the death rattle had begun.
His last words spoken, “I love you my son”