Hold On Kid

Hey…

kiddo, can you hear me?

This is your dad—hold on.

Packed a suitcase, packed my pride,

left the crib for a grind,

Signed my name on dotted lines,

sold my nights to buy you time.

Money came in little stacks,

but the clock kept stealing laughs,

Three years catalogued in missed calls,

bedtime stories turned to drafts.

Mom says staying’s a choice—but she treats it like a prayer,

Taking care of you’s the job,

but the world don’t pay her there.

I watch pawn-stamped pictures,

tacked to a fridge that’s cold,

I traded kisses for paychecks,

traded warmth for gold.

If time was currency I’d wire you back the sun,

But balance sheets don’t buy the nights we never won.

I swear I’m counting down,

each dollar a bruise,

Every flight, every shift—I'm just trying to choose.

I’ll be home soon—promise inked in my veins,

I’ll be home soon—cut these strings on your chains.

Three years wasted?

Nah, it’s debt on my lungs,

I’ll be home soon—hear these words from my tongue.

Hold on, kid, hold on—Dad’s coming for you,

soon. Letters folded neat,

I read 'em 'til the light goes gray,

You draw monsters on the margins,

I sweep the nights away.

Mom says she’s tired,

says she won’t take their pay,

“Taking care of you is work,” she whispers,

“but I don’t get paid.” She looks at me like blame is

owed, like I’m stealing home,

Like I chose the highway over rocking you alone.

Truth? I chose the lesser hurt; I thought a wallet buys relief,

Now every midnight I’m rehearsing apologies beneath my teeth.

Listen, I ain’t the hero in your bedtime tale,

I missed the picture frames,

Said I’d fix everything,

but I left with aching hands and names.

If love was a resume,

I’d list every single mile— I left to feed you better,

not to lose your smile.

Take a break, take a breath—let me stand in that doorway,

I’ll trade these foreign sheets to tuck you in by day.

I’ll be home soon—promise carved like a scar,

I’ll be home soon—even if I’m late,

I’ll not be far.

Three years wasted?

Call it tuition in this cruel design,

I’ll be home soon—cross my heart over every line.

Hold on, kid, hold on—Dad’s coming for you,

soon.

Phones on silence, nights are long,

your laugh on voicemail— I replay it like gospel,

I’m guilty of the trail.

You think cash is the cure?

Nah, it’s stitches in disguise,

You need a hand,

not a handful of compromise.

Mom’s burnt out, she’s proud—won’t let the world hand her rent,

She’s holding up a castle with nothing but intent.

I know the house is heavy,

I know the nights are thick,

I’m flying home with freighted pockets,

heartbeats on the quick.

Soon I’ll kiss the top of your head,

whisper sorry in your hair,

We’ll count the suns we missed,

watch the moon repair.

Three years—just a chapter,

not the end of our tune,

Close your eyes, little man—Dad’s coming home soon.