Oh I hear it

Grumbled,
Slurring,
and mad at its own decisions.

I hear it. I couldn't possibly miss it, that voice is yours. In those moments when I feel abhorrence and abjection,

It's YOU

Reminding me of the pillars I stand on that grate against the sky and
How far the fall is if I take one wrong step.

You don't shy away from my failure or the shame you feel in me,

I feel in me.

Yet somehow,
when the night
has become dew drops over me,

The voice is different. It is me, maybe.

Is that normal? To hate yourself so much you've forgotten what your own voice sounds like.

All I can hear is a high pitched whine most days.
The rest,
it's you.

I know you're thinking I'm wrong,
But I hear it…

It's you,
Dad.