![]() ![]() He had never seen a prettier thing in his life. And one night she was just sitting there, alone and unaware. That's all he wanted, a pretty girl to come home to. Staying later and later with each visit, even after the boys would go home to their girls. He found himself down at the Coin more that he would have liked. The old wood and brick walls made it feel like home. Him and the boys at work went out afterwards to this place called the Copper Coin. Sun up to sun down, blistered hands and a parched mouth. Blue collar shipyard, any way to keep her alive. When you come home to find her on the floor, you're reminded of those sleepless nights that will haunt you for the rest of your life. Her cheating, her weak will, the addiction, that needle. You know she is gone and there's no saving her. Steam rises as the boats come in, one by one. But that ain't no reason to hurt yourself. He knew the only reason she started on that stuff in the first place is because she couldn't deal with how his father drank. He'd pick her up and lay her in bed, kiss her forehead and close the door. Every night he'd come home to his mother passed out because of the junk she put in her arm. ![]() His hands hurt every day after towing those lines in- they cracked when the winters came. Waiting for his little brother to come home so he could put a couple bullets in him, put him in the ground with the father he'd wronged. "Where are you? You coward."īefore work he would just sit on that dock and watch the ocean. An airborne man with a scar and wound, "Never make a promise that you can't prove." You are your father's son, dear father. The war-torn stories that he told you, you've got a hell of a lot to live up to. "Can you feel that soil covering your coffin?" So what are you going to do? Be the hero that your father was, be the man he made you to be? You are your father's son, dear father. The military and the working man, the history of the life he lived. Familiar faces would have made him proud. Watching his mother cry over the man that provided for the three of them cut into him. I will find you, and put that vice to your head. When we were just two kids, it still feels the same that warm blood rush when the train comes. I ain't no forgiver, forgetter." Those cold steel tracks beneath your feet, those same rail ties where you dodged those trains. "Where are you going to go? You're only seventeen years old. That January night, our father lays cold. "Dear God, where have you gone?" Your brother is gone in the blink of an eye. As much as she prayed, he never showed up. ![]() "I ain't no forgiver, forgetter." Our mother waits in vain for a God that never loved us. "Dear God, what have you done?" Those words ring loud in the back of your head. "Why don't you just own up to what you did? Instead of running away like a little yellow-belly? Just afraid of being hit, god damn him." A little blood on someone's hands never hurt no one. Took away his Father and ran away like a coward. That little kid wronged him for the last time. ![]()
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