The last time I saw him I was eight
It was my birthday, and oddly enough, things were going great
No cussing or fighting, it was as perfect as it was gonna get
But from then I didn’t know about the storm
That was about to hit
I waited months
Expecting him to come
He never showed, so I decided to run
I might have been young
But the pain I had was real
I kept trying to call, but I ran up the bill
I did the same thing over and over for almost a year
During that time I shed more then one-hundred tears
Even to this day I remember the pain perfectly
And now all he is, is a faded memory
But I must thank him for one little thing…
Thanks “Dad” for making me the strong girl that I am today