Who gets mad at dog for growing old?
Or a tree for losing leaves?

Who shouts at fence for chipping paint?
Or a sock that wears a hole?

The things he can't control used to flow in a river past him

Then you died and my dad built a clay dam in the river to bring feeling to a hault

Emotions enevitably make his fragile dam overflow and everything spill out of him

He crys at everything, so he trys not to look and everything is gray

I don't know how to make him better

Because what do I tell him when I can't even get back to a steady flow?

So, for now, I've decided to be mad at you grandpa