The father of Margaret Rich

Was a depressed and lonely man,

Raised his only daughter

Solely by his own hand.


The father of Margaret Rich

Never talked much at all.

Seemed to prefer his own company

To that of anyone at all.


The father of Margaret Rich

Was trapped in his own head,

But could come out now and then

To put his daughter safe to bed.


But little Margaret grew and grew

Really unnoticed by her dad,

Lived a life controlled by herself

A life that's rather sad.


She never knew her father

As closely as she could,

But knew her existence in his world

Was really his one good.


Knew he loved her very much

But battled in his own mind

Against his demons and his beasts

That shut him to the world blind.


And then one day he'd had enough

Couldn't think of anything left to do

But silence the demons forever

By shooting his head through.


Poor little Margaret Rich

Heard the shot go off;

Went upstairs to find her dad

With a sputter and a cough.


His attempt at suicide

Had not worked as planned.

But too weak to finish the job

He could not move his own hand.


The father of Margaret Rich

Looked at his daughter and cried,

"I'm sorry," he said to her,

He trembled, coughed, and sighed.


Margaret Rich looked at him

Saw a sad and pitiful creature.

Knew he could never come back

Not that he'd ever been able to reach her.


She knew that his demons were still there

And could not be put to rest,

So she took the gun from his failed hand

And shot her father in the chest.