My Father

My father is a complicated man. Complicated as in, he is an ocean. You love the ocean, but its waves always knock you down. The waves are your words father. When the ocean takes you down, you swallow water. The water is regret father. After swimming in the ocean, your eyes always hurt, even if your head never dips into the cold, shallow water, theres still salt in your eyes, and it hurts. The pain is in my chest father, hard to swallow. The ocean is a cold, inconsiderable, cursory place, but even though it hurts you, you always go back. Much like you, father.