To my father,
To him who has passed me by,
Time and time again.
To him who sits quietly,
In his fort built on ignorance,
And painted with fear.
Time has slipped between your fingers once more.
I fell out of your grasp years ago...
The day you decided I wasn't worth holding onto.
I left and havn't looked back,
Until now.
Now it is me,
Walking down this isle alone,
It's my turn to pass you by.
Stay in your little hideaway,
Blind to the truths that surround you.
Sit, stay and tighten up those locks,
For it is me who goes on...
It is me who will be able to step over your ignorance,
And be able to move on.
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