a daughters silent cry:
she called him "father" out of habit,
not from a place of love.
a title earned by birthright,
but never by his touch.
her memories are bruises,
shadows cast in black and blue,
each one a silent testimony
to a love she never knew.
she watched him from the corners,
eyes wide, heart held in hand,
hoping for a gentle word,
or just a place to stand.
but all he offered was his anger,
a storm without reprieve,
she learned to dance in thunder,
and smile while she grieved.
she picked up broken pieces,
of a childhood lost in fear,
and stitched them into stories,
that no one else could hear.
she became the perfect daughter,
in a world that had no light,
wearing masks of silent laughter,
while she cried alone at night.
she drew him countless pictures,
with crayons worn to bits,
but he never looked upon them,
or cared where she would sit.
she tried to make him happy,
to be the child he would hold,
but all she found was darkness,
and a heart forever cold.
now shes grown and distant,
with scars time cannot heal,
she knows him as a stranger,
and wonders if he feels.
for dads are meant to be there,
to catch you when you fall,
but her father was the reason,
she ever fell at all.
she still dreams of a moment,
where he might finally see,
the daughter he never noticed,
the love that couldnt be.
but dreams are made for breaking,
and hopes for fading fast,
shes learned to live without him,
just a shadow of the past.
YOU ARE READING
poetry
Thơ catrigger warning. dont expect you to read this, words are simply that. just words. but if you do i hope you enjoy 👍 and if you relate to any of these, im so sorry. (all of these are original and written by me unless its said otherwise) might also in...
