When I grew up,

I listened to the stories,

That were different every day,

My Mother and Father had a misunderstanding,

There is nothing more to say.

When I was old enough,

The tales became faces,

That I could too easily recognise,

My father was not so truthful,

But only full of lies.

When I could tell the story,

The jokes became memories,

That left a burning scar,

This heart that is full of rage,

Can only reach so far.