Down by the county road
Playing little boy games
Waiting for the school bus
My son looks up and says,
“I want to tell you something,”
I lean down so he can
whisper it in my ear:
Then, “I hate you, Daddy.”
Just to taste the words come out
Just to watch the knife go in
Just to watch my face change
As I feel it.
So don’t tell me that we
Can make it if we try
Because he’s just like his daddy
And his daddy’s just like his.
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