I’m like most of America or at least of my kind
And like most of them I’m losing my mindSome have already blownAnd only their confusion is shownWe come from a home of oneOur caretaker does until the doing is doneAnd the one who planted the seed said take careBut we grew without his sunlight, but did we did him thereTo many mammals this is their way of lifeThere is no relationship, no trying to get a wifeThey just get in, get out, and their part is doneAnd the caring s left up to oneSo what if he wasn’t hereSo what if my cries he couldn’t hearSo what if he didn’t shield me from fearSo what if he couldn’t wipe the tearThe tear that occasionally falls from my eyeNot sad, when I’m mad is my worst cryBut he was what I am now, aloneTwo different beings but many of our experiences cloneAnd like most of you I’m more confused than angryMore fearful of “like father, like son†theoryWill I do to my children what he did to meOr choose to be what he was afraid to beLeaving only makes things worstIn doing you insure the passage of this curseThat internally tears us all apartNot having that figure messes up our mind and cracks our heartIf he went to jail we think, most know, that we’ll be in a cageAt the age of 15, lost and guided by rageMom, at that point has given upAll because by one man we were given upWe grow up not knowing if he ever wanted usWonder when he found out if it was nothing but a fussIf you don’t worship the ground you step on then don’t plant the seedMother earth is strong, but she doesn’t determine if we become a weedAll he does is rain on us and it isn’t muchThat could be depression, pain and other as suchAnd the occasional child support check from himselfChecks can’t support me co he needs to check himselfA piece paper can’t be there for me when I need itAsk paper to take care of a child it can’t even feed itTo in short it’s pretty much meaninglessIt just a small fix to an extraordinary messBut in some form or another, the small fixes got us byWell most of us anyway, the others chose to dieGave up because that’s what he didAnd he doesn’t see what he has done to his kidBut us who are alive keep livingBut we don’t know why it’s our life we keep givingI get up sometimes saying “What for?â€And motivation walks right out the doorJust like my father decided that’s what he wanted to doAnd I find myself never finishing things tooSo in that sense I’m just like him, it’s crazyMan I hate the life of a bastard baby!