They always fought
Or rather my mother always did
And my father was the silent martyr
Maybe he was scared
Maybe he didn’t have it in him
Maybe he didn’t know how
Sometimes he would say
Other people are happy
She ruled us all
With myopia, fear psychoses, blackmail
We were a family united in fear
Our divinity was the despot
Fifty-eight years later
Her iron fist hasn’t slackened
And he grovels more
As his Parkinson-addled brain fuels his dependency
She says I will go first
And see what happens to you
He is now too scared to live, too scared to die
They remain united in fear