When I was young my son's life was severred from existence,
Then when older another son's life severred from his stance,
It's a form of loss that brings great pain,
While the desire to understand remains the same,
Am I a horrible person or perhaps just the worst Dad,
To make one feel it's a relationship wished never had,
Some wounds pain, calas and finally diminish,
The same is felt when ultimately finished,
Just as I have been placed on a shelf,
History has a way of repeating itself,
I hate to see family treat family bad,
As I worry about my son, 'cause he's also a Dad.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem