I appreciate the absence of chains around my feet
And I'm thankful for the open door and a chance to breathe.
But we're measured by this distance within these four walls
And we're reduced by this screaming and the slamming of doors.
This distance is too far for our hands to reach
And these bruises are too blue and these cuts are too deep.
I know how it is raising a fucked up kid like me.
You don't have to bear this burden alone
And for the last nineteen years, I'm sorry.
Father, I don't blame you for drowning with the bottle.
Father, I understand and I am soon to follow.