Hostage of own compassion

we went for a walk in a park and walked in silence
for a very long time – last night I didn’t come home,
and in front of our gates, he simply said: just use a condom.

I spend nights colouring letters he read in newspaper
while sitting at the kitchen table, and playing super Mario
while Led Zeppelin would play on his stereo

he bought me my first pads and went with me shopping
we’d play chess and he’d pretend I won; winter weekends
we spent cheering for our boys in slalom, as old friends.

when you yelled he’d take me for a walk, and he taught me
how to cook, so you wouldn’t lose your nerves no more –
to keep you quiet he showed me how to clean and wash the floor.

but you kept yelling and shouting and screaming and fighting
and I learned from him to go for a walk and came back
like him, full of understanding become I for your aggressive attack

and you managed to turn him against me, to make his life meaningless
you destroyed every idea he had, you took every joy he had –
now I look at a peel where once lived my precious dad.

hostage of your sickness and his own compassion and principles
he suffers in life he never wanted to have, while nerves eat him alive –
your faithful servant, with time you learned him of evil and cynical smile.

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