He Let Go of My Hand, but Not My Heart

One about my dad . . . who're an alcoholic & suffers from bipolar disorder. . . he's in the hospital now so, thought i'd write about him! He let go of my hand, but not my heart. I walk down this path of the unknown. Searching rapidly for the answers, The air in my mouth remains stale. The lie grows like cancer. He let go of my hand, but not my heart. The lights turn, we move again. Smoke slowly tingles up my nose. Demanding time, but not nurture The lie of forsakencancer grows. He let go of my hand, but not my heart. Mirrors crack as the girl walks by. He hears her dreams in the hall. Guilt and emptiness are what we feel. The life we live is not our call. He let go of my hand, but not my heart. My one true memory left my mind. Leaves start to rustle in the distance. He drives by, existing I do not. Truth reveals, in this instance. He let go of my hand, but not my heart. The shadow I call home confronts me. I stare back, ever so hesitant and in awe. An angel must have saved me. The reflection of me is him, I saw . . . . .