Fathers and Sons

I am my father’s son raised and lived by the gun
Now I stand on the ground where he died
Shot down in revenge over a man that he killed
Ten years ago when he chose wrong from right

I left my family when I was twenty-three
And took to raising my own kind of hell
Last I’d heard of my old man, he stopped needing to sin
Put down his pistol and the bottle too

He turned from his ways
He would pray every day
But some men don’t care how far you go

Because the man my father killed had a son as well
And he grew up angry and mean as me
Soon he got the chance to steal a gun and ride west
To find the man that killed his pa in vain

He would search every day
Feel pain in every way
His hate was all he’d ever know

I got out of another jail to back home and see for my self
And learn about the change my father had
I wept and lost my breath when I found out he was dead
Who did him in and the trail he ran

I could search every day
For that man just to say
Does Heaven look better from below?

I am my father’s son raised and lived by the gun
Now I stand on the ground where he died

 

Poem by Ryan Hughes Sept. 2018

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