Sunken Dad ...

You think you know me,

you rarely do,

the heart of the matter,

taunts,

me and you,

...

This grave feeling,

chisels away at me from inside,

splitting muscle from bone,

and most prying eyes,

...

I once knew who I was,

and where I stand,

Yet these unchecked losses,

slip through my hands,

...

With bearing teeth,

I will certainly bite,

taking my piece,

with all my might,

...

Feeding the wounds,

that will not heal,

from a broken heart,

born to conceal,

...

You think you know me,

you really don’t,

for the heart of the matter,

Is just a sick joke,

...

A Joker,

I’ve become,

with a grand audience,

To only one,

...

While lending hope to none

...

“Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when we practice to deceive”

Sir Walter Scott

...