It's raining, it's pouring...

My old man is snoring.

He tipped back the bottle, still drunk from yesterday.

He was angry, threatened to run away.

Yet I'm not scared of that eventuality.

It's simply my reality.

I stare at our beautiful kids and wish for better nights.

Ones filled with happiness instead of fights.

I hope for smiles, screams of joy, and silly giggles.

Not for drunken quips and disappointments that fizzle.

I want more for our kids, a father that puts them first.

A husband that supports me for better and worse.

It doesn't sound selfish in my mind.

Is it my personal weakness to be kind?

I'm grieving for a love that seems lost.

I made sacrifices that outweigh the cost.

The babies deserve better than broken parents.

Better than a mother who constantly needs to vent.

Better than a father who is lost in his own narcissistic thoughts.

One who recognizes the tears he has wrought.

Is there a happy ending in sight?

Isn't that anyone's right?

If I could help him, I would.

If he wanted to change, I doubt he could.

Lost, lonely, linear longings.

Wants, wishes, and wrong-doing's.

Can we survive this storm?

Is the notion forlorn?

Have I made a mistake, letting him have my heart?

Or do I simply need an emotional restart?

Too many questions are left unanswered.

And right now, my heart is too tired...