How Fathers Are Born

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.