The Day I Killed My Father

His mother must have been a bitch,
To raise such a wretched son.
And as soon as I could scratch an itch,
I vowed to kill that man.
His visage I had never seen,
For he abandoned me.
And even though I bore his genes,
He was not family.
Oh irony of ironies!
That more than any other
He helped to shape my destiny
And made me so much better.
For could I ever be like him,
And cause my son to wonder,
If each young lady he's viewing,
Could be his long lost sister?
On the very day my child was born,
I took my father's life.
His legacy became undone,
Without a gun or knife.
Armed with responsibilty
Honour my only amour
I fought that demon skillfully
With help from great Jehovah
And now the cycle lies broken
He cannot hurt another
For I gained freedom for my son
The day I killed my father.
But bittersweet the victory,
For when he begins his quest.
My son may have to vanquish me,
So he can be his best.

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