He is a man
That's all he'll ever be.
A man.

He is a man
Who fails to notice us,
To care for us,
To BE with us.

He is a man
With strange ideas.
He is
No scientist,
No astronaut,
No pirate,
Nothing.

He is a man
With a dog,
A dog
Ranked higher
Than his own flesh.
A dog who is family,
But his family is not.

He is a man
Who hides secrets
That everyone knows,
But are still a secret to him.
With cans stacked so high,
We'd be blind to not see.

He is a man
Who refuses help,
Who refuses ideas not his own,
Who refuses any company.

He is a man.
That's all he'll ever be,
That is, to me.
Not the father he should be.