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The memory of meeting you is a little hazy.
But when i was about six,
I knew a man used to come to our front door
that me and my sister called daddy.
He brought fun toys for us to play with.
His hair was long and curly, he always wore the same dirty clothes
and his breath smelled like cigarettes.
I didn't know daddy was addicted to drugs or where he lived.
Why he didn't show up very often, or when he did he'll
Always ask for money or something.
I didn't know why daddy didn't shave,when he kissed me my
cheek always hurt,i didn't know why mommy yelled at him alot,
or why we had to move but i heard mommy say daddy spend all the
money on booze and crack, i just thought daddy was a good man,
i didn't understand why he showed up once beaten to death.
i just knew he was my daddy and that was good enough for me,
I saw mommy scared one day when these guys yelled at her,
They said if daddy didnt pay them back he'll hurt us all.
Then mommy took us away with grandma,
We didn't see daddy at all.
For a Long Long time,
It was a rainy day when daddy came,
I remember it all to well,
he spoke very soft,
i saw the light shining off his balled head,
He wore a nice suit,
and smelled like summer rain,
I didn't relize i miss daddy so much,
When i gave him a hug my cheek touch his face
and it was smooth like a table,
he told me he was okay now
he just went away to get better,
we both went to church together.
I told daddy i loved him
and now i can proudly say,
i know daddy he came by everyday.
He is my daddy and that is that

------
Stacy Robles


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