Yes, sir! I'll do the dishes,
Though my eyelids are heavily laden
With wishes of sleep.
Right, sir! I mowed the lawn,
As my legs almost gave out on me
From time to time.
Well, sir! I won't stop pushing myself,
Not after I fall down from lack of energy,
Or after I cry the pain away.
Indeed, sir! I want the privileges.
That's why I sand and paint and work and work
Untill I could do it asleep.
See, sir? I'm almost done.
The work you can't do is done all for you,
Now please may I get some rest?
Why, sir? I am sick now, and still,
I must do this work. sweep, carry, move, toil.
Any more and I will die.
No, sir. I will not do that.
All day I have pushed more, doing impossible feats.
General, I'd rather be shot.
Goodbye, sir. I'm going home now.
Under the covers and away from your wrath,
For one blissful night of sleep.
my father is actually a nice person, but he is almost scarily like a general, or someone of command. I have learned t push myself farther when I reached my max. I learned to do things I never knew I could.. At times I do want to cry, because even when I am sick I have to do work, and things that my father cannot do, because he lost a leg and is now handicapped. I still love him, but sometimes I hate his method of parenting...

