Noone

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this is a poem about my dad and how he chooses his wife over his children.

Noone

He didnt take up for me
I dont think he even cared
his wife was mocking me
he was standing right there

with a blank expression
he watched me and my aggression
then he threw me down
without so much as a frown

i watched in disbelief
how could my dad hurt me so?
i got up and stopped crying
decided it was time to go

but who will be there dad
when youre sick old and gray?
will she still be there
will she take the pain away?

no she will be gone
and your children will have moved on
you will be old and lonely
with noone to come and hold thee

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The true philosopher and the true poet are one, and a beauty, which is truth, and a truth, which is beauty, is the aim of both.

Ralph Waldo Emerson, American Poet (1803-1882)

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