Dear daddy,
I know you're busy, mumma's busy too,
But she speaks to me much more often than you.
Your theory about me is just a hypothesis.
You think of me as an innocent fool,
But I'm not one of those faces.
It's not all about me,
I know it's about you too.
But you take decisions on my behalf,
And my bad, I can't stop believing in you.
Sometimes when you exaggerate, I just want you to shut up,
You point out a zillion flaws within me and I just pray you would stop.
I'm sorry I'm using such language.
I'm sorry I used such vocabulary.
But that's exactly how I feel when you see each my activity as a foolery.
I wish your words were a little less abusive,
Your tantrums and bitterness and rage all inclusive.
I never doubt your resilience and your wisdom,
But how I behave is because I'm scared to lose my freedom.
I wish you were like mumma,
She understands me much better than you.
She counts my flaws, but my accomplishments too.
She makes me live all the fantasies that I wish to.
But most of the time, she's busy healing scars given by you.
"No daddy didn't mean it, he just said it like that."
"Be mumma's good girl, he didn't mean you're an impudent brat."
Happy conversations between us are getting fewer of the few,
You argue for validity of your restrictions for the umpteenth time, but that's not really true.
For once in a while, please let me be.
Think whatever you want to, but don't demoralize me.
I see it like I was doing better when apart.
I'm sorry, but it's much better than your brutal comments if nobody simply cares about me.
I don't express my anger.
You never saw my outbursts.
I wish you were one gem of the darling daddy,
Because you don't know, but it really hurts.
