You Came With No Manual

I raised my voice and frightened you. I’m sorry little one. The hardest part about being a parent is being a parent.

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You came with no manual; I came with no clue.
The first moment I held you, the world stood still.
I pulled you close and whispered an oath,
I’ll be your protector, for the rest of time.

Now my head’s in my hands,
I breathe and I weep,
still burnt from the moment
when you just cowered at my feet.

I look up to the mirror and his eyes look back.
My Father,
these traits he left behind as I fought through his lies,
the tears in mum’s eyes will haunt me forever.

Get to your room! You walk away,
I begin to sway as I see myself the way you do,
my father’s voice through my own,
breaking your heart of glass as it did mine.

Now I’m alone and no longer hear your tears,
I lay on the floor surrounded by pain,
as I reflect on this time, my oath is broken,
I want you back in my arms again.

Sam is a full-time working father of three, a fitness bod, and a writer; often sighted drinking fine ales and riding motorbikes.

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