I want to load up my .44 head down town and deep six every dealer I find. Real Dirty Harry impulse to the sad fact my boy is out on the streets shooting dope. And I'm stuck trying to type out some hope.
At nineteen we are all invincible, only now do I know from personal loss the lie inherent in that statement. People die in the blink of a lazy eye. And people survive Hiroshima atom bombs.
Life is one big dichotomy.
Loving my son fiercely is no armor against the slings and arrows of fate. He must find his own way, and all I can do is pray the journey leaves him a bit less tattered and scarred than it did his old man.
I was that kid on the street, that thug with filed numbers on his stolen revolver. And so how I hope my climb into respectable society would have save him my danger boy path... oh foolish man, the sins of the father are always visited upon the son.
At nineteen we are all invincible, only now do I know from personal loss the lie inherent in that statement. People die in the blink of a lazy eye. And people survive Hiroshima atom bombs.
Life is one big dichotomy.
Loving my son fiercely is no armor against the slings and arrows of fate. He must find his own way, and all I can do is pray the journey leaves him a bit less tattered and scarred than it did his old man.
I was that kid on the street, that thug with filed numbers on his stolen revolver. And so how I hope my climb into respectable society would have save him my danger boy path... oh foolish man, the sins of the father are always visited upon the son.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
God doesn't have any step-children.
Set an example, don't enable-pray.
I know what you're going through, be glad you're not a mother.