Dear Dad, Part I Poem by H.M. Gautsch

Dear Dad,
How is it living in Kings?
I guess you didn't expect to be in assisting living at fifty-six.
Do you even know me? Do I look familiar?
Do you even remember?
The baby girl you vouched for your own;
backed me up all the way to a DNA test to clarify my blood?
I was always daddy's little girl from the day I was born,
I stood up for you even when you weren't even around.
Misunderstood child always siding with her old man,
As the lies stacked up on the other end.
It wasn't just my grandfather and uncle that only influenced,
You're military service helped my decision become fluent.

Twenty-four years old and a call from mom,
At this point I'm still self-medicating and befriending my demons.
when I finally realized your escape from your past traumas.
Karma, karma, karma when you fell from that latter.
Now I comprehended loud and clear why you were in and out
Of my life and my brother's.
You decided to choose alcohol and drugs instead of being a father.
The good news, your consequences influenced me to give up the liquor.
The ugly truth shines in the light,
And now you lost your right to your children and grandchildren,
But dementia has prevented you from becoming guilt-ridden,
As you stay in illusion about serving within a Mexican prison.