The cold darkness around him does not scare him,
The wafting moonlight does.
As his pen touches the parchment,
Memories rise up, like the blood which spills from his wounds,
Dear dad,
It's been a while.
I don't know what to say,
I don't know what to write.
You were my father, once.
Do you remember the walks we took?
Do you remember that elephant ride?
We were a family once.
You, me, mum and sis.
What happened then?
Who was it who killed my father?
Was it the stress of modern day?
Was it the stereotypical past making its way,
Spilling its hatred into our future,
Poisoning our now?
I remember watching you drink.
I always wanted to swat that glass away.
What was in it that made you so evil?
Was it really the alcohol, or was it you all along?
Who are you?
Are you the man who was my father?
Or are you the man who cracks his belt at me for my own good?
I remember the day you died for me.
The day our brittle family broke under the bludgeoning of your abuse.
Do you remember?
Do you recall how you tried to hurt the ones I loved?
Do you remember how I shoved you aside?
For a moment the boy pauses,
His grief welling inside.
But he does not allow himself the luxury of tears,
He doubts if he can.
Dear dad.
Where the hell is my father?
Why did you have to walk that path?
Did you not remember the days we laid back and talked about everything?
And now as I sweep away the broken shards,
Trying to forget you forever,
Swearing not to be your heir,
This question haunts me.
Who the hell were you?
No matter what happens though,
I know you'll always be there.
The embodiment of human rage,
The capacity to fall as low as I can.
No matter how hard I run away,
You'll always be there.
Striking out with your belt,
Destroying everything I care,
For my own good perhaps.
Why are you always there?