Father Dearest

I’m sorry for any pain
I’ve ever given anyone.
I’m sorry I’m not perfect.
I’m sorry I’m your son.

A boy who you could mold
Into any shape you see fit.
I wonder who I really was and am,
I want to remember, but I forget.

Now I’m grown and
Can still see all that you have done.
How I wish it were my memory,
But no, you’re doing it to another one.

Another not of my blood.
Another not as strong.
Another not of my flesh.
Another to do wrong.

PDC