You spent many years showing me contempt;
Being divorced somehow made you exempt.
Nothing I did ever made you feel proud;
Even at your end you played to the crowd.
You saw in my eyes that I thought you sly;
Each word that fell from your lips told a lie.
You couldn’t even speak well of my mother;
Convincing others she made you suffer.
The day I saw you lay still left me cold;
Delusions crumbled with your murky soul.
Grandmother’s arms sheltered me from the truth;
Should have listened when she called you a brute.
With your death came the knife to slice my dream;
I’d chased a man who wasn’t what he seemed.