It’s dark in here, and full of water

I knew I should have made a daughter


It smells like fish and churns with the waves

Just another old man with a shallow, watery grave


My glasses are foggy, my eyes worn by sun

I created a monster, the tragedy just begun


Every detail I bore to him, crafted by candlelight

The monster’s mouth remains shut tight


With twigs and branches for his flesh

Hours toiling, I was driven to obsess


For every piece and part and nose

I drove closer to my own repose


I failed to discipline most of those days

A boy without boundaries would never stay


A fox and a cat both dealt a hand

That should not be dealt to any man


Both lame and blind they would succeed

In ignoring my son’s desperate pleas


I deserve this fleshy prison, I failed as a father

Now to live the rest of days,  living in this squalor



Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741