[ Recently I posted a “song” that I wrote about addiction:
(Poems, Quotes, and other Ephemera - #38 by JohnSee)
…I also have a number of ‘bad’ poems/songs that I wrote before my problems with addiction, starting in my high school and college years (I’m 52 now). These writings still have much to say about the root causes and defects that led to my addictions, so I will copy/paste some of them here. Yes, I was “Emo” before it was cool, and then not so cool anymore… 
]
This one was about my father who died of lung cancer from smoking, around 1995. My parents were separated as long as I can remember, but he would visit every few weeks. He spoke very little English, had some OCD issues and would clean/sweep the whole front of our house before even ringing the doorbell.
“Cracks”
they grew between the cracks
in the sidewalk of my old house
and that man was out there
pulling each one out
and by the time the weeds grew back
he’d returned armed with his own broom
so we’d drop the blinds
the doorbell would ring soon
he grew between the cracks
in my own life, between the phone calls
in the feeble soil
of words we could recall
but mom had always said
he’s your own father just the same
he gave me you
and gave you both a name
he lived between the cracks
in this country, of his exile
once a teacher
here a servent, hand for hire
yet he never would complain
and kept his pride, and every dollar
his sister got her home
and he just had tomorrow
he lived within the cracks
in the memory of a young child
a stubbled kiss
a toy, a coin, good-bye
but I could always find his love
beneath the sharpness and suspicion
when he heard our need
and would come through again
It grew from in the cracks
in the temple of God’s own design
and it wouldn’t stop
until the day he died
so I found the love, did the plans
and even made the time
but the cracks are gone
and no root was left behind