Him

I least talked about him,

When i do nothing good will come out,

A father is what i called him,

But wish nothing more but be distant from him,

Embarrassed and pain is suffering,

Being with him just nothing more than lie,

And more lies,

His very own story without us in the picture,

His very own story without a truth in it,

We know and i do too know,

Defend him as i might,

With all my very heart i try to defend him,

Even the greatest wall could never stand up to the lie,

Aye, it was all that,

It hurts me more and it hurts me still,

I rarely talked about him,

And when i do it was more to pain than the joy.