Childhood mask

My punching bag, my excuse, the one to blame 

He disappeared for good and part of me the same

I was happy, I was pleasant,  he was evil, he was vile 

Different people, different stages, placed in separate files 

I was happy he was angry, different to the bone 

I was good, he was bad, young vs. grown 

How perfect I was, with no faults within

Till the day daddy died and the irony set in 

As the day passed on, I watched people cry, the pictures all changed altered by time

I saw the good in him and all the bad in me, projection at its finest, with no place to be

Finally seeing who we were that day, March 31st, the day my childhood went away