He was filled with years of abuse, while she was just trying to cut loose.  And I can still hear them [bad word] on the dirt cellar floor, of that old red shed that’s off limits with the locked rotting doors, did you tear up when ma and pa said they would tear it apart?  Do you still hear her moans now that you’re all alone and left in the dark?  Because I meant what I wrote back in 9th grade, you were both too immature for the decisions that you had made.  I know that this [bad word] may have [bad word] a hard note, but it hurt me more to know that I had to lie just so you would stop, asking me with tears in your eyes, “Son, is this how you’ve always felt?” Pleading, “I’ve only done the best I could with the cards that I’ve been dealt, because all this world has done is eaten me up, and spit me back out, I’m just a product of my surroundings, and someday son you’ll understand what this is about.”  I’m left swaying with anxiety and wishing that you really meant it, but deep down inside of me, I knew that you treated us like [bad word]  because you were full [bad word]  yourself. That’s when I thought about the all obsoletes in this world, and I asked myself, “Why were we born this way?  Will we really die this way?  When will this hostile world start seeing things in gray?”  After all the songs I have written for myself, and all the lines I tried to give my generation for help, I still feel like there’s this hole inside my heart, that only a parent’s love could have filled from the start. Dad, I never thought I would write something to try and encourage you, and I never thought I’d say that there is still hope for you.  But now I’m pleading, there’s still hope for you