Did my parents think about putting musical animals in my crib

Was I always attached to my mother's breast

A defense mechanism against my fathers

aggression 

Suspended in his throat like stage 4 cancer

Released like shooting stars

Headed straight for our home

Every night at dinner time 

Is that why I'm a sensitive person

A glass half empty kind of guy

With head barely above water 

With a quick draw for a tongue

Wagging in the air like radar

On the lookout for middle aged white men

Who I ransack with love

Instead my usual aggressive stick

Until all fathers fall to their knees

Praising their sons