Show this to a divorce lawyer.
Forgive me my sins, I am a broken man
I am thrown to the altar of regret
I had wanted a family, but things went off plan
Each day has been the worst one yet.
Watching a daughter cry would roast any daddy’s heart.
Feeling your new wife re-evaluating her choices.
Rushing to judgment denies my certain actor’s part
Self denial fuels the inner jester’s rejoices.
Is it always this hard just to try to live life?
Must one toil uphill each day to watch it turn black?
I am a parent who loves my kids and adores my wife,
But I live with an ex-wife on my back.
You see, I made choices with incorrect data
And I’m a man of my word, sure enough.
But the woman I married went from Princess to Dictator
And for years, my home life was tough.
But I meant the vows, I meant when I said
I had had my fill of running wild,
I was completely opposed to calling the marriage dead
Right up until the day I filed.
There was cheatin’, and lyin’, and red fits of rage,
The high tech of computers proved her sins.
But to be a divorce statistic in this day and age
Is to play a game that nobody wins.
Those kids I adore keep me from going insane,
Each day they pull me back from the brink.
Otherwise I’d vanish on a westbound train,
Or drive myself to ruin with drink.
I want nothing more than to parent , by damn,
I am both prepared and well rehearsed.
I have practiced enough, give the exam,
I had to show her how to diaper at first.
I have been here for each of life’s moments,
Supercharged those kids before they got started.
Showed up at recitals, chaperoned, chronicled events,
Phoned every night give or take, when we were parted
Money is not a weapon of war, unless you’ve been divorced
But once its begun it takes over your world.
You suffer someone else’s idea of remorse
And are forced to keep a flag of surrender unfurled
She makes no sense, and she thinks only of her plans
She schemes and connives with the best.
It seems she cares less about children in best possible hands
Than about outrage, drama, and protest.
Is it too much to ask that my kids know the mundane?
That they lives their lives just trying to grow up?
Why must everything be paid for with more guilt and pain,
Why should arguments make me not want to show up?
You go live your life, then, and just leave us alone,
I’m a better parent than you on my worst day.
You can become a voice on a long distance telephone,
And my children will turn out more than OK.
I have a right to be mad, the things that you’ve done,
But revenge is keeping my own wounds green.
I’ll work on forgiving when you work on job one -
Nurturing those two lives until they reach eighteen.
We disagree on so much, we just can’t get along,
Oil and water with fistfuls of grit.
You thought I would lay down and you proved to be wrong,
So why not just go peddle your – judicial writ.
One more thing before I am done, one more point I must make,
And I trust I can make myself plain.
Those two kids are the best part of my biggest mistake,
And you dear, are completely insane.
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