That boy of mine

He was awkward in every situation
and he passed this onto his son,
always looking on the dark side,
life less ho than hum. 

The father had his values and the son, he learnt a lot,
mirrored by those with similar hates,
the rest
could
fuckin
rot.

They shared a single passion,
where that youth was brought to work
and lemonades were passed by drunks,
I smiled,
she frowned,
he smirked.

That boy had jobs that made a man,
his sweat
and blood
and tears,
and sought perfection in daddy’s eyes,
through
years
and
years
and
years.

School, college and university,
untaught thoughts black and white,
his first girl never understood,
he cut,
ha ha,
what shite.

'Sonny boy' new grandpa said, as shivers caught the sweat
but let’s be fair grandpa read,
silly stories to read for fun,
as this father wept at never hearing them,
not
a
fucking
one.

Now a man, grandad was there
and I was there
proud,
smiling,
he was taught well,
through love, sin and rage,
love, sin and rage
love, sin and rage,
love sin and rage,
my  beautiful  boy.

At once my son and father, passed away,
in only days,
this boy
was
done,



the pain had only just begun
life is less ho
than hum.