It’s not because you flogged me until my hands were sore,
Or that you broke my head a couple of times with a touch.
It’s not because you made me live with every momentary concubine,
Or that you rebuked me till my hands went sour.
It’s not because you are a shitty father.
It is because you made me look at you and told myself, I should be anything but you.
It is because you showed me all the wrongs, so I can learn to live aright.
Do I still love you? I think!