And, “what to say?“, they plot and scheme,
“About his mental health?
I know a shrink, that knows this lawyer;
He’ll do it to himself…”

“We’ll poke and prod, and piss him off;
While changing all the locks, 
So, by the time the case convenes,
He’ll just go off half-cocked.”

And then there comes Dad’s Judgment Day
All hangs on his performance,
He hasn’t seen his kids in weeks,
His heart, in shock, lies dormant.

And if he slips, a tiny bit,
If she can raise his hackles?
The officers are in the hall
Breaking out the shackles.

So, judges, yawn, and bang your gavel
And call for your next case
And, after lunch, more wrack and ruin
One more Dad to erase;

And who inherits this condition
This unconscionable mess?
The kids you rule on, that is who,
While safe behind your desk.

And who explains it to the children, 
“There’s nothing wrong with Dad”?
That he just couldn’t sink as low
As Mom and Gramma had?

The better deal the state holds out
Is right around the corner,
So she cries upon the witness stand
As he is stripped of honor.

There must be stories in the works,
To tell this little child,
How Daddy’s life came all apart
One day, when Mom got riled.

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/poem-absent-brothers-never-met-pt-4-ron-collins?trk=mp-reader-card