I cannot feel the pain he’s given me
Parental blood be spilled, I hide my thoughts
And as I cannot speak the things I feel
Instead I find I’m saying what I ought.
My birthdate came; he wrote the rules of us:
A contract in accordance with a bond
No more, nor less, no reason for distrust;
He cannot split a kingdom once he’s gone.
Descending into madness left him blind
With horror mainly happening offstage
But had he spoken sanity, been kind,
No need for institution, law, or cage.

A father deaf to youngest daughter’s way
Will never hear the things she ought to say.