F a t h e r

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You got drunk again,

that by far terrifies me the most.

Usually your words are rambles,

but this time they hit close.


I regret the day you found my scars,

you've barely spoken to me since.

I should understand, right?

You can't look at me without a wince.


Because who am I,

to feel this way?

I should be normal,

I shouldn't think these things.


You want me to force a smile,

you want me to force a laugh.

You want everything to be okay,

for me to keep wearing this mask.


You came in last night,

demanded I show you my arms.

As if you forgot,

the many scars that I had harmed.


Then you stared,

it was almost two in the morning.

You started yelling,

you didn't care who was awoken.


"I don't trust her,

I don't trust you, do you hear me?!"

Cut your damn arms,

I don't care, it doesn't hurt me!"


And you won't even remember,

not this morning.

But you made sure everyone heard,

even little Elli.


I wanted nothing more,

than to reach for the blade.

But I'm too terrified,

so hidden away it stayed.


I guess I deserved that,

and I didn't go back to sleep.

I was too scared to even move,

just lay silently and try not to weep.


So to my father,

I'm sorry I'm a disgrace.

I wish I could be better,

but I fear I'll never move from this place.


And I wish I could say I understand you,

but I find it so hard.

I just want to be the perfect daughter,

but my soul is so deeply scarred.

Words to My Demons | Poetry ✔️Where stories live. Discover now