Wood

It’s dark in here, and full of water

I knew I should have made a daughter

It smells like fish and churns with the waves

Just another old man with a shallow, watery grave

My glasses are foggy, my eyes worn by sun

I created a monster, the tragedy just begun

Every detail I bore to him, crafted by candlelight

The monster’s mouth remains shut tight

With twigs and branches for his flesh

Hours toiling, I was driven to obsess

For every piece and part and nose

I drove closer to my own repose

I failed to discipline most of those days

A boy without boundaries would never stay

A fox and a cat both dealt a hand

That should not be dealt to any man

Both lame and blind they would succeed

In ignoring my son’s desperate pleas

I deserve this fleshy prison, I failed as a father

Now to live the rest of days,  living in this squalor