He sits on the sofa

Sleeps on the sofa

Smokes on the sofa

For days 

Every day is the same

For 40 years

He often calls suicide 

But even suicide 

Doesn’t want to speak to him

Suicide doesn’t pick up the phones

He is a father of two

But that doesn’t change anything

Not to them anyway

They are still kids in his mind

In his memories

But they grew up 

Before his eyes