Demise

Brothers and sisters I had none
The start of father's passing had begun

As I, only one, and left with the chore
To watch over and care
till his heart beat no more

I pondered the former
and what transpired before
Things lacking significance,
time spent brooding about
Things as a son I felt he left out

Consuming my soul, of things carried inside
All the longer it felt, before his demise

Feeling the martyr, of things not said or done
Longing a father, be he not the one
Deserving more thought I as his son

Inspired by wrath, goad by disdain
Spurred on by bitterness
my heart stayed the same

When his time came, his ending begun
The last words spoken, ������¢���¯���¿���½���¯���¿���½I love you my son������¢���¯���¿���½���¯���¿���½