Through The Neck Of A Broken Bottle

I met my daughter 7 days ago, I saw her little face through the neck of a broken bottle, One I’d thrown at her quivering mother, In an intoxicated rage. I screamed at her to shut her up, I could not handle the crying or the stench, I’d not do anything to fix it though, It’s not my problem anyway. I recall my daughter vaguely now, Her screaming face cut as I take aim, Seeing her tears through a broken bottle, That silenced her tiny cries. All at once I am an awful father, My halls too silent to bare, So i drown out the silence with drink, To forget the awful thing I did.