He taught me how to ride a bike, you told me I would fall.
So it sat for years, and gathered rust, I never rode that bike at all.
He played games with me that set a child’s imagination free,
You played the games that instilled the fear I still have in me.
But, look at me, I think I’ll make it,
I don’t think that I could take it,
Being who I am today
You didn’t have your way,
My life’s a dream come true in the making,
The starts are all mine for the taking,
Maybe I should have thanked you all along,
You made me live to prove you wrong.
He worked his fingers to the bone, to provide more than we would need,
You took him for everything he had, may I never have the greed,
To methodically destroy,
This perfect little girl, little boy,
The way you tried so hard to do,
But maybe in a way I owe you.
For every time I watch my babies laugh, every time I hear their dreams,
I’ll remember how it felt to have my world torn at the seams,
By hateful words and glances,
Then to have no second chances,
To make it right again,
Because you just don’t, in the end.
I’m teaching them to ride their bikes, and I won’t let them fall.
I guess you were right; maybe I’m just like him, after all.
