Glove

it's not easy being the man you want me to be,

or the father you swear blind I'm not,

I find it more difficult than I can say,

to be the salvation or your dwindling crop,

you cause me to mentally dither and doubt,

could it be she's correct and I'm a fool,

I can't be sure if I'm the glove or the hand,

but one is in charge and the others a tool,