Timely & Tragic #1

How proud I was

the day papa was born?

Everything’s wrong,

upside down.

I have seen

with borrowed eyes

for far too long

to recognize

who my father is

and when

he was or is or

will be.

My clothes of

pleasure and pain

need a softer

hand

that’ll also

pull me out of

this pit of tar

and acknowledge

the return

of a prodigal sun

on the back

of a governmental form

through

crafty doodles

papa made

in my image.

But who knows

and for how long

this day will go on

in the absence

of common sense

to keep papa

from growing old

while I grow old

just as well.

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