Daddy's Little Girl
Is it too much to ask for a father's love?
Is it too much to want the ability to look you in the eye?
Is it too much to want to be treated lovingly?
Is it too much to ask for a glimmer of love in your cold stare?
It must be because what I want the most is what I'll never receive.
I hate myself for failing you so.
For never being the all-star, all-American girl you wanted.
I can't look at myself because all I can see is the fat, ugly failure you can't even call daughter.
So what happened to Daddy's Little Girl?
The one you taught to ride a bike, to play the guitar, to shoot a gun?
Is she gone?
Or is she just hiding behind the wall you forced her to build so she could block out the hate of others and let yours in?
I accept your words - your hate stinging me from your poison tongue because you had a bad day at work.
I accept them because those words are all you'll ever give, all I'll ever get.
And I know I'm no longer Daddy's Little Girl,
no longer the sweet girl with a lisp and pigtails,
but can't I - the swimmer, the writer, the dreamer - be good enough?
Can't I be Daddy's Little Girl: All Grown Up?
Is it too much to want the ability to look you in the eye?
Is it too much to want to be treated lovingly?
Is it too much to ask for a glimmer of love in your cold stare?
It must be because what I want the most is what I'll never receive.
I hate myself for failing you so.
For never being the all-star, all-American girl you wanted.
I can't look at myself because all I can see is the fat, ugly failure you can't even call daughter.
So what happened to Daddy's Little Girl?
The one you taught to ride a bike, to play the guitar, to shoot a gun?
Is she gone?
Or is she just hiding behind the wall you forced her to build so she could block out the hate of others and let yours in?
I accept your words - your hate stinging me from your poison tongue because you had a bad day at work.
I accept them because those words are all you'll ever give, all I'll ever get.
And I know I'm no longer Daddy's Little Girl,
no longer the sweet girl with a lisp and pigtails,
but can't I - the swimmer, the writer, the dreamer - be good enough?
Can't I be Daddy's Little Girl: All Grown Up?
♠ ♠ ♠
The poem I wrote is about my having Stockholm's Syndrome and the abuse - mostly verbal, sometimes physical - I received when my now ex stepfather was in my life.