Quincy Palamar

A father who could be mean,
A daughter who couldn't have foreseen,
A father only love did he have for her,
A daughter who didn't understand...it was all a blur,
A father too weak to overcome the poison,
A daughter never knowing all was over...all was done,  
A father alone, with his little girl as his last thought,  
A father now taken by death, his last battle he had fought,
A daughter finding only in death, how much he really loved her,
He kept every poem, every note, every hand drawn picture,  
A father who loved his daughter, now gone forever,
And the very fibers of the daughters soul, severed.