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Father
He calls you pretty,
He takes you to all his favorite places showing you he cares,
He keeps the socks you gave him for Christmas years ago,
He calls them lucky,
He’s the best you could ever ask for,
But after a long day,
He grabs the bottle,
Pores his glass to the brim,
Then the best you could ever ask for is gone,
And your left,
A shell of what was once a loving person,
Tired,
Empty.
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A poem about being close to someone who's an alcoholic.