Durbin Family History

Let me tell you a story;
One that is old
And of one still being told.
Let me tell you a story;
Of a child that was being bold
And a man who I had to scold.
At least this is how I remember it.

A long time ago
In a little town
Not too far away
Lived a boy
And his father
And his stepmother
And her own son.

The little boy felt like a weirdo
A bed wetter, a zero,
His grades were slipping in school
And his step mom
Had all but said to him;
That she wanted him gone.
She was more than that
And she was sneaky
One who could twist her tongue
And come off sweetly
"Oh honey, it would be the best for him. If you sent him to Florida to live with his mummy."

So days turned to weeks
And the marriage was rocky
And the son kept getting
Into all kinds of trouble
Picked on at school
And biting his lips
Yelling at every one
And letting grades slip.

Then with each passing day
More and more fights arose
And there were a few times that
The little boy and his father had to stay in a motel
Because his dad was too nice of a man
To just kick her to the curb in his own home

Then finally it came
When the kettle was overflowed
With anger, and lying, and hate
When one day he got in trouble
And was made to hold his arms up in the air
And stand against the wall until he apologized.
He had kept his tongue for so long
Sheathed behind his lips
But after what felt like an eternity
Father asked him what he was thinking.
"I hate her, she's evil, and I want to go live with mom."

And in that moment a war began
That eventually lead to divorce
And that little boy,
Knew that dad was trying his best
Now that the curse had been lifted.

Yet he still ran away.
The boy was scared
And didn't want to hurt anymore
And he knew it wouldn't change
Back to how it was before
And even when he wanted to die in Florida
He knew that he had to go back
The years were tough and they lasted forever
And eventually he got through school
But never discussing or dealing with the issues
That had separated father from son;
Not until he had moved away,
Fallen, and rose again, and fallen and rose again
In cycles so plentiful
That he fell on his knees
And realized
The real enemy here wasn't the little boy
Or his stepmother
It was the boy, pretending to be a man;
Expecting so much from a child.

So this story now comes into today
Where I, had to talk to that little boy
Who I had locked up in chains
Deep in my heart
And held contempt for
All these many years.
I let him out and took him into myself because he was my self;
And I would never let him come out.

So I had to forgive myself,
And apologize to him
For the torment over years
Because a body that doesn't love itself
Can't really love at all.