Ripped and torn my patience thin.
The redness of my eyes set in
I am your world,  yet I scream and yell
The bags under my eyes. They swell

Don’t you see? I don’t mean to scream
Your two years old and I still seem
like the child who can’t compose himself
I lose my temper, I lose myself

Your five years old and want to read
“Not tonight” even though you plead
"I’ll do better tomorrow", I always say
How many days has it been this way?

What would it take to be the dad?
The dad these kids deserve to have?
I quit drinking, that didn’t work
***** wasn’t the reason I’m a ****

How did my parents make it through?
Did they too yell when I was two?
Have they done things that they’re not proud?
In MY face and getting loud?

Am I doing damage every day?
Man it hurts to feel this way
Are the memories all going to be
Of dad just trying not to scream?