The Man Who Made Me Who I Am

I am a bastored child.
One Who's spirit is broken, while
His imagination runs wild.
I do not know my father, he is a stranger
who never seemed to bother.
I have no knowledge of the character of the man
that he is, I just know of the bastored child that is his.
I don't know if I make him proud. So I let my heart and emotion speak loud. I try to look past the gloomy cloud and continue to keep my views on my father without a sound.
Am I the same as him. I can't keep my mind from wondering, or stop myself from observing everything I lost from not knowing him.
But as I ponder upon these thoughts I wonder to what cost did he pay. When he can't see me since he went astray and made me the man I am today.


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