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Maybe Tomorrow
I sat down to write you this letter
because I have something to say.
The page is white and empty.
my pen is out of ink.
Finally Done
He wore his heart on his soles.
The tattered brown leather, worn through on the sides
tells the story of his life.
They sit now, on the corner
of the red brick fireplace finally warm,
and getting their chance to rest.
What I learned
Time means nothing, the clock stopped ticking.
This isn’t how it’s supposed to be,
you learning how to be a dad
from me.
But you taught me one thing,
something that I’ll never forget,
who not to be.
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