If my father was a house, it would be a house with broken windows, cracked floors and leaking ceiling
If my father was a car, it would be a vintage Mercedes with rusty door handles and engine that refuses to warm up
If my father was a tree, he would be a hollow oak, diseased with heart rot. Decaying from the inside
If my father was a cup of a coffee, it would be cold and bitter
If my father was a country, he would have two dozens and a half neglected provinces that have turned rebellious
if my father was a continent, it would be Africa, countries ravaged by war and famine, broken down by disease and clinging to a fading bright spots
If my father was a human being, he would be a selfish old man.