Elliott B Wrinkleberry
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My Fathers Hand
I held my fathers hand today, but he wasn't there with me
He looked my way and smiled a bit, but I don't think he could see
My tears I hold until I'm alone, I want to be so strong
Maybe he should just give up, is thinking that so wrong?
I held my fathers hand today, but I don't think he was there
And mother holds and rubs his arm, sat on a plastic chair
And the pipes and tubes and sticky bits are holding him in place
He's tired of life and all this pain, I can read it in his face
I held my fathers hand today, and told him how I cared
About the things we ...