My dad died when I was 3 years old.
This is the story that I was told.
He died in a car crash because of a drunk driver.
My dad didnt make, but the drunk driver was the survivor.
Why must the good die young? Why didn't I get the chance to meet him?
I want these answers to my questions, but instead my patience wears thin.
I want to remember the time he told me he loved me, I just want him to know.
I love him and I miss him, but how do I let this show.
I feel like crying when fathers day comes to town.
And I get pissed off when people say they hate their dad, when mines not even around.
Atleast you remember your dad,
be the memory good or bad.
Atleast youve seen his face.
I have no one real to fill his place.
I want to hold his hand, I want to look in his eyes.
"Dad I love you and miss you " as she falls to her knees and cries
If your dad left you when you were young, then this poem isnt meant for you
But if you were put in my situation. tell me what you would do.
There is so much more Id like to say, But I'll save it for a later day.
For the anniversary of my dad's death draws near, but until then I'll shed one tear.