Honest

If I'm being honest, you're an anvil on my chest, aim where the heart is, see what father

thought was best, the cool of an August evening, and an email that just said you couldn't forgive me, even if God did, so if we're being honest, do you ever feel alone

Do you go to the movies and get reminded that I'm gone? Do you ever get bothered by what our choices have become? Does it get harder forgetting a son

I was angry, and I had every right to be. You ever wanted to break free, or discover what it means to feel so hollow, and end up losing everything just to see what you're made of

Father, can you hear me

So if we're being honest, I think I made my stepmom sick, a compulsive lying boy that chewed his fingers to the quick, and pulled out his eyebrows, and stole things, and wet his bed till he was twelve

Where was the kindness? Where was the help? We built a new house, where not one picture of me hung, sit and don't come out, boy, you best remain where you belong

I failed a gym class, so they wouldn't see the bruises you had left, if only your pride had kept your rage in check

I'm not angry, though I have every right to be, and I can't change things, but that doesn't change that I'm stuck looking at your face in the mirror, your reflection on repeat

Tell me, Father, can you hear me