Here’s the brutal, fucking truth,
If they ripped her kids away, stripped her roof,
Threw her out into the cold, no proof—
That suicide rate would hit the fucking roof.
Ninety-nine percent, of women gone with the wind,
While men hold on by the edge of their skin.
Shattered souls, tethered to names,
Fighting like ghosts in a rigged-ass system.
She cries struggle with a child in her arms,
While he begs courts just to share some calm.
She’s got the roof, the food, the bed,
He’s got court dates and pills instead.
She mourns from comfort, calls it a war,
But he’s bleeding behind that locked front door.
She’s the “warrior,” hailed by the crowd—
While he’s dying slow and he ain’t allowed.
But fuck him, right?
He’s just a man.
Holding the weight, no one gives a damn.
He don’t shout, don’t ask, don’t cry—
Just breaks inside while the world walks by.
He fucking provides, he endures the flame,
But no one even remembers his name.
Yeah, fuck him, right?
He don’t flex in cafés, don’t dance in clubs,
He just works, comes home, gets kicked, then shrugs.
He don’t scream, “I’m both roles now!”
He just fills the cracks, wipes the brow.
Keeps the kids fed, clothes still clean,
In a world that calls him obsolete.
He’s not your saint, he’s not your show—
He’s the reason the lights still glow.
She holds custody like a fucking crown,
Marching through ruins, burning it down.
Lives in the house that he bled to turn into a home,
Raises the kids he’d give his life.
And they call it strength, call it a win,
While no one sees what they did to him.
It’s not triumph, it’s desecration—
Wearing ashes like salvation.
But fuck him, right?
He’s just a man.
Holding the weight, no one gives a damn.
He don’t shout, don’t ask, don’t cry—
Just breaks inside while the world walks by.
He fucking provides, he endures the flame,
But no one even remembers his name.
Yeah, fuck him, right?
He didn’t leave, he was erased,
Silenced, buried, fucking replaced.
And the world clapped, smiled, stood tall—
While he screamed in silence through it all.
Give him custody, watch him stand,
He’d carry hell in both bare hands.
But that door? It never swings—
They never ask what a father brings.
What fucking haunts, what rips me apart—
Is seeing pride dressed up as heart.
Entitlement wrapped in virtue’s clothes,
Ashes claimed like a fucking rose.
This ain’t power, this ain’t grace,
It’s a graveyard with a smiling face.
While they pose with the tombstones tall,
Some of us are still screaming through it all.
But fuck him, right?
He’s just a man.
Holding the weight, no one gives a damn.
He don’t shout, don’t ask, don’t cry—
Just breaks inside while the world walks by.
He fucking provides, he endures the flame,
But no one even remembers his name.
Yeah, fuck him, right?
So kneel in the dirt, hear what’s left unsaid,
All those words we choke down instead.
This ain’t a song, it’s a fucking scream—
For every dad buried in someone else’s dream.
Fathers the unforgotten silent hero's.
I love you Dad
KhodrIsmail