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The Good Ol' Days by Gary R. Hess

This poem is slightly fictional. I don't remember when my relationship with my father could actually be considered good. Anyway, at the time, I remember him drinking quite often. Perhaps that's selective memory, I don't know. But he would hit us. Of course, he would always say that it was deserved. I don't believe that, but that's what he would probably say. He's a lot better now. He rarely drinks and seems quite a bit calmer.

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Category: Sad

The Good Ol' Days

I hate the way you treated me
Coming home drinking those nights
Not one day went by without it
Those times you hit me, my brother
We tried to run but always caught
Hits were harder
Stronger, worse, even more
I remember the boards you used
To hit us those nights
And 'make us learn'
Times have changed now
But the scars still remain
Deep inside, I will hate you forever
But I can't change that you're my dad


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