It hides behind his cool demeanor,
And his sadness does not surface
Above his gentle smile
Or bright green eyes,
But it lingers in in tone,
It appears in his words,
As his lips move to thwart
The words that have reached his ears.
How can one so young know
That his words cut like a knife
To make a father realize
He has done his son so wrong?
It cannot be, no matter how hard
He tried to be a good father,
He failed.
The feeling of emptiness is worse
Than having himself rejected
By another human,
This rejection comes from his own child.
The one that loves unconditionally,
And he sits in amazement,
Tears in his eyes,
Drowning his own sorrows
With pity flavored tears.
He sits in the darkness,
He reaches for a pen.
Can the words help heal-- No.
Can they fill the void,
The emptiness in his chest,
The rift in his soul.
Echoing darkness surround him
As he drifts off to sleep one last time,
Knowing that tomorrow doesn't matter--
Not anymore.
Yes, today he realized that he
Was hardly in control.
Robert J Nye (2008)
