Toeing The Line

I cannot begin to tell you how hard this was to even contemplate writing, let alone picking up the pen to begin. Truly the most emotional piece I will probably ever write. I won't write about it again, somethings are best left in the past. Still, I am here, and I am posting this composition for you dear reader. The old adage, a trouble shared is what comes to mind for why I am here. I will let you decide for yourself. 

Father, to you I was never a son, I was never quite good enough to stand in the rays of that love. I was someone you could bully, use and abuse. With this piece of work I have tried to give a glimpse into what it was like to be your third son. You will never understand how I loathe what you did, but despite all that that carries I will never hate you for it, instead, I pity you Father, I pity you, you blew it!

Toe the line

What bloody line?

You say it’s quite clear

But I can’t see it from here

Is it transparent?

Or immovable with temper, dread and fear?

It’s all in your mind

This invisible guide

It fails me each day

As it shifts and it sways

Inconsistent with no direction

Your perfection so unreal

Pride is my prejudice

While your truth is a lie

This perspective of view

Is unique to you, just you 

Your line is dye cast

From things in your past

Mine, feels bereft

For it contains you in its thread

 I cannot deny

 You shadow my eye

 Always watching & judging

 Berating & hating

What did this small boy do?

To draw such rage from you

 I loathe what you did

To your own fucking kid

Toe the line

Toe your line

Toe my line

Why? Oh Why? Oh Why?