Everybody wants to judge but nobody wants to listen, like he used to.
My father held my hand, his fingerprints are worn from decades of hard work,years of struggle,years of pain
Every time he laughs it cuts through me more that his anger does. I look at him just like i used to,in my early childhood, eyes full of wonder.
For once he feels like a dad, not just a father.
I grip his hand tightly i...
