His car stood alone, desolate and dark
I thought of him in there, alone and distraught
The dark pressed around us from ever-y side
Between our car and his stood an awful divide
I opened the door and walked, terrified
To my dad, in his car, ‘cross the awful divide

To one side of me was a play place and a park
Behind me, my step mother, and oh how they’d fought
Her and my father, outside in the night
They had shouted and swore in a horrible fight
The baby, my sister, screamed with all of her might
But could not drown the noise of that terrible fight

And so he fled in his car
The road bore the black marks as a scar

I ran outside, she was angry-eyed

I asked, “Has he done this before?”
And she looked away, like she planned to ignore
But then she said, “No.” And she swore

We loaded up in the car, in the dark
I sat in the back, alone and distraught
She called him but he wouldn’t pick up his phone
I was seven years old, crying from the unknown
She gritted her teeth and let out a groan
Where he had gone was unknown

Finally, he answered, and gave her a landmark
By a playground he sat, in an empty parking lot
In his car, all alone, he watched the swing set, eyes wild
By the playground near his mothers house where he had gone as a child
While we parked and Melissa sent me to him, voice mild,
He looked at the playground where he had played as a child

To one side of me was a play place and a park
Behind me my step mom, and ahead my father, distraught
I could see the silhouette of the man inside
As I walked toward his car through the awful divide
As I walked toward the car with no light as my guide
As I walked in the dark through the awful divide