I still see him

Sometimes, I still see him,
like he used to be.
Sometimes, for a moment,
I forget about the disease
and have a clear moment,
of him.

He's in there.
Trapped inside a disease.
Trying so hard to get out.
Sometimes, he breaks through,
finds an open window
and says hi,
from behind the walls of this
disease.

And in the same moment
I watch the disease claim him,
again.
Trap him.
Close the window.
So I only see him starring,
waving at me,
through a closed window pane,
that I want to break.

I wish I could break it for you,
dad.

Someday, it will be broken.