but it's you who don't live up to your name.
One to provide and support,
instead a father waiting for a chance at a callous retort.
Through my stinging eyes, I envision crossing that threshold, void of a goodbye.
I would never return. Farther than far, I would go.
Because your snide speech reaps far more than it sows.
Because your treacherous tongue hurts more of me than you know.
"Dad, three years, and I'm out of here."
Your face turns to iron: unrelenting, cold and stern.
My feet carry me away, it's too much to handle,
I saw the sincerity of your indifference, your true colors at their essence.
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