The Memory Book

I sat down on a chair and began to take a look,  
I finally found my father’s memory book.  

I found it while I was cleaning the attic,  
A book of love, but also dramatic.  
 
As I flip through the pages, my life comes to me  
Like a fishing ship coming back from the sea.  
 
I opened the book and lost my frown,  
I had found the time when I first went downtown.  
 
I grew up in the country, my childhood was calm,  
I grew up with my family, a loving dad and mom.  
 
Then I went to college, my surrounding became new  
Tall skyscrapers surround my brand new home, NYU.  
 
There I met Jenny, the love of my life,  
A beautiful, smart person, my soon to be wife.  
 
Pictures of her standing there with me,  
Pictures of us having fun near the sea.  
 
There, at that spot, my life began new,  
I met someone who loved me, and who I loved back too.  
 
That was a story that’s fresh in my mind,  
The story that made me believe in mankind.  
 
But as I flip the pages, moving further back in the past,  
I saw my girlfriend from highschool, a relationship I thought would last.  
 
Not everything about our connection was bad,  
In fact, something about it was the best thing I’ve had.  
 
We met at church, the home of the Lord,  
I went to the bathroom, I was getting bored.  
 
As I left the restroom, I saw her by the door,  
My mouth was agape, she was more beautiful than ever before.  
 
Her name was Ava, a goddess at heart,  
A woman of passion for music and art.  
 
I asked for her number, we went on a date,  
I made sure to bring her home before it was too late.  
 
The dinner was incredible, our conversations were great,  
I knew I needed a way to celebrate.  
 
I was driving home, then saw a woman out the door,  
She was in a dark alley, and looked like a whore.  
 
Though I was tempted, I knew what to do,  
Something about this scenario felt like deja vu.  
 
I went back to my home, I said hi to my dad,  
For the first time he was proud of me, and he wasn’t mad.  
 
He said, “Son, I love you” and a tear went down my eye,  
He’d never said that to me since my mom said “goodbye.”  
 
We embraced each other, a hug like no other,  
A new love had grown, even without my mother.  
 
This was a memory deep in my heart,  
This made me realize that wholeness comes from part.  
 
As I flipped through my book, memories flooded to my head,  
The type of memories that make me feel dead.  
 
I flipped to the end, saw the latest memory,  
One that would bring an end to my family.  
 
I met my father in a place of sorrow,  
He had nothing to live for, he would have no tomorrow.  
 
He had reached a new low, he felt unknown,  
He had a lot of money, but he lived all alone.  
 
His will said that I would get every last penny,  
Something that I really needed with Jenny.  
 
He went on the ground and gave this final plea,  
“John, how could you do this to me?”  
 
“I needed the money,” I said in return,  
“Besides, Mom died, now it’s your turn.”  
 
So I grabbed my gun, put it right to his head,  
And I shot at his temple, he laid there dead.  
 
So I cleaned up the scene, no prints or DNA,  
And I received his inheritance the very next day.  
 
I lived the rest of my life happy, rich as can be,  
And made this book to hold this memory.