April 6, 2013

When I was six,
My dad would come home,
With a sweet scented perfume,
One that my mother never owned,
With red lipstick on his collar,
Telling my mother he couldn’t be here any longer,
Because he fell in love with another.
Even though he had two daughters,
He kissed them goodnight,
Fury raged within his eyes, darted at my mother,
Saying hurtful words that still embed her brain to this day,
Moments I do recall when I’m tossing and turn in bed.

I remember when he called me his pretty princess when I was younger,
But he grew angrier as weeks passed,
As if he was mad at the world because of his wrong doings.
He called me names that I thought a daddy should never say,
Words that followed me everywhere,
Even at school.

That man was not my daddy,
His words hurt,
His hits hurt utterly worse.

Where was my dad?
Did the woman who stole him from my mother,
Steal him from me too?

That man was not my father,
But a monster that lost it all.