Daddy is supposed to be stern, you know that he’s always right;
He rules with a heavy hand, but still tucks you in at night.
Mommy is always there to soften the harshness in his voice,
Love you tenderly despite your every erroneous choice.
But they listen with attentive ears, and adhere carefully
To the rules and regulations of a flawed society.
Perfection can never emerge from an appearance-obsessed home,
And so your beautiful daughter will write only the saddest poems.
After fifteen years of playing with the boys, she takes a chainsaw to her youth
Your little girl needs your acceptance but you refuse to take on the truth.
In denial, you turn to your façade to help outline her vault:
Public image is primary, so her depression will be your fault.
You are the biggest reason for her ungrounded self-hate,
Provoking her insatiable need to constantly self-medicate
With the worst kinds of drugs, deteriorating her body and her mind
You took away that first chance of acquiescence, and now all that she can find
Are enveloping waves of suffering and despair,
Rising up over her reach to the above-surface air.
She drowns in her liquor ocean but fights and continues to grope,
Comes crashing relentlessly down upon her banked hopes.
Because you can paint it all black, try to die your clothes or hair,
To reflect the feelings inside, and feed their devouring stares.
Hide whatever you wish of yourself, delay fulfillment of your greatest fear
But your roots, your truest colors will always reappear.
Yes, you are the reason for her razor-sharp edged hate,
Invoking her torturous need to routinely self-mutilate.
With every kind of weapon that she can locate to use,
She burns, she tears, she cuts from herself the love that you so abused.
And as her misery takes deadly aim,
Ignore it completely, undertake the blame.
Her blood and her tears are on your hands;
Keep fabricating what your culture demands.