No one believed in him.
Night to day, a bottle at his lips
as if it were the air he breathed,
as if it were the only thing that stayed.
No one believed in him.
But I did.
When I came along, I thought
he’d set the bottles down,
choose us, choose himself,
and rise into the man he wanted to be.
He never got the chance
to prove them wrong.
But I know deep down, I know
he would have fought his way back,
would have clawed toward better days
for the family he dreamed of.
All he ever wanted was a daughter.
And when he finally held that dream,
life took him away
before he could become
the girl dad he always meant to be.
But I believe in the man he was becoming.
I believe he would’ve gotten sober.
I believe he would’ve been a good father
the kind who stands tall for his own,
even for the ones
who never believed in him,
even for the ones
who speak down on him now
when he can’t speak back.
I believe he would’ve stayed.
I believe he would’ve healed.
I believe in him
I always have,
and I always will.