I wonder at times,
of how long I should hold your hand,
guide you through life,
watching you grow up to the person,
you are now,
and hopefully have no regrets if there were fails along the way,
maybe a few,
the ones that couldn’t be helped,
where in the way,
you were learn by yourself,
even if I highly disapprove with certain choices,
though in a way,
that’s my job to worry,
and wonder at times,
did I go wrong,
or did I push too hard,
as of now,
you don’t understand my side of the story,
but in ways I know yours,
because believe it or not,
being at that age,
like you,
was strange and nerving,
which makes me worry,
and angry when you bring it up,
thinking that’s okay to do it,
because you only know the start of it,
not the aftermath that came from it,
nor the regrets,
the shame,
and tears that came with it,
because I went against my elder as well,
because I didn’t understand,
nor care of their choices,
because I kept repeating,
I’ll never be like them,
and in ways,
so many,
it bit me in the ass,
and I fucked it up for everyone,
losing the trust of others,
the steadiness to walk on my own faded,
weight on my shoulders grew because there was no one to help,
or anyone I trusted back to do it,
because in my mistakes,
the aftermath shook everyone,
so when seeing it happen all over again,
but to another,
I want to keep safe,
I know it is lie to say,
that for everything to come,
would never touched you,
but that can’t be so,
and you need to grow,
just not the repeats I did,
nor ignore from others,
nothing stops me from wanting to reach out,
and say everything is going to be okay,
when the aftermath hits you,
I want to,
but I end up sounding like a dick,
saying tough and now you understand,
why not to it,
trying to swallow the words of saying,
I was right for once,
and you were wrong,
are side of things,
that will scar a hole between us,
I don’t want that,
I am sure you don’t too,
but your young,
and say it is not true,
until it is too late,
and yet now,
here I stand,
placing your favorite flowers,
down on the ground,
dried out of tears,
as past tears stain my face,
keeping my hands to my side,
to keep my whole body from shaking,
looking over at other pillars,
with a heavy heart,
seeing another familiar one,
two away from you,
having the distance of the memoires come back,
haunting up to that crash,
while the yelling of disagreement grew,
and seeing that truck just . . .
no amount of sorry comes close,
to what I want to say,
even as I go back to my place,
looking at my own name,
seeing the years I spent on this world,
just as you did,
just so short than mine own,
gone just like,
I could scream,
if I had a voice,
but the last time I used it,
was when I said I didn’t want,
and the words you said back,
hurt just as bad,
yet the faint tug on my arm,
tells me something,
that I fine too soon to noticed,
as I fall back,
waiting for another year to pass,
in hopes someday,
we can forgive,
and be a family again,
even if now is pointless,
doesn’t mean it should let go,
that easily.




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