More than

You always said I’d never last

Said I’d quit or run, like a shadow of your past

Told me I’d never make more than you

That I’d end up broke, bitter, maybe half-true

We didn’t talk much, not without a fight

Your voice was sharp, and mine burned bright

You didn’t understand the way I dreamed

And I didn’t understand the man beneath your steam

But I made it, Dad — I really did

Got a life, a name, and a wife, and kids

And even though you never got to see

The man I became, that man is me

We made our peace before you passed

Didn’t fix the cracks, but we dropped the mask

And now that I’ve lived a little more

I see you clearer than I did before

I used to hate how cold you’d sound

How every word felt like battleground

But now I’m tired at the end of long days

And I wonder if that’s just how you prayed

You worked with fists, and pride, and grit

And maybe love just never quite fit

You were hard on me ‘cause the world was too

And you knew it’d take fire to make it through

Yeah, I made it, Dad — you were wrong and right

You lit the flame I used to fight

And I built this thing you never got to see

But in some ways… I owe it to you and me

We never hugged much, never said the words

But I hear your voice in things I’ve heard

And now that I carry your blood and name

I feel your shadow in the light I claim

You said I’d never make it past you

But I think what you meant was:

“Don’t let the world break you like it did me.”

Took me years to understand that.

I made it, Dad — but not to spite

I made it ‘cause I learned how to fight

How to hold my ground and take the pain

How to show up, and build from strain

I see your face in the mirror now

Not in anger — just wonder how

A man like you made a kid like me

And somehow…

we both got free