A taste grows in my mouth,
the longer I stare,
like battery acid it pools,

At the sight of a loving father,
I find my stomach turning

I know it is but only my jealous heart,
This bitter taste so familiar,
sour it is indeed

I feel as if ill never heal this aching pain
of something I've never had

like an itch on an absent limb,
I have discovered,
nothing can quite scratch it right