Are you sure?
I've never really noticed.

You did a lot of huffing,
I did a lot of coughing.

I've never been sure of your intentions,
Were you looking to build me up from a faulty foundation?

Favoring straw over stone, cause you never really liked this settlement that much to begin with.

Your icy words did little to warm my tiny, dingy rooms, plummeting in my fireplace like soaked logs.

With the continuing weight,
I was forced further down.

Yet you had provided,
that was your thing.

For quality you had no regard,
It was all about quantity.

Money over love,
duty over kind words,
outer appearances over warm hearts.

You could have turned me into a mansion,
yet after all these years I remain a hut.

A shoddy and run-down hut.

Are you sure you're a father?