Just to make You proud

Here's how the story went... our not so perfect accident.

We were high for twenty years; twenty years more than allowed.  I would do anything to make him proud.

Daddy wants a brand new son; the kind you find in a convenient store.  Your accident has become a man.  Daddy, I'm not your son anymore. 

Off he went, I became what's his name.  It's okay, I am better for it.  I'd do anything just to make him proud.  Spent a lifetime searching for his approval just so I could ignore it.


After dinner, I said farewell; knowing these twenty years were over.  I figure if there is a heaven, at least, there he will be sober.

Some say, they will never understand.  It's okay, he's better for it.  I would do anything just to make him proud.  Spent two decades watching him die but I felt important.

Off he went, I became the ghost.  Arrivederci, Adios.

When the living haunt the dead, we're still trying to make them proud.  It's okay, some things are still allowed.



When she asks why I write words like these; over flowing my eccentricities, I can't explain this gnawing need to escape the liberties I've been endowed.  Truth is, I just want to make her proud.

She knows how this story went.  Here I am, her accident.