Sometimes I think
I can never forgive you
for being absent in my life.
Your lack of determination
to love me
frustrates
to the point
where my throat swells
and I cry.
But as those tears,
salty and bitter,
drain
from my father-deprived body
I realize
you did the best you could.
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"Write with our backs to the wind and our faces to the hard, bleaching sun."