How Fathers Are Born
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Carried away, lost for a second. She don't see the miles,
don't see my reflection. Painting the words while she stands accusing.
History and silence are confused and bruising. Wanted a seat at the table,
a name to own. But it's cold in a place you built like
home. Still I keep reaching through the ache and the scorn.
Hoping one day she'll see how fathers are born. I watched her grow through windows
and trial. Counted sacrifices just to catch a smile. Every promise taken,
every step unsure. Laid dreams at her feet, though my soul felt poor.
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