I try to please but never succeed in making him proud of me.
A father should be there to love, care, and to be proud to say:
“That’s my daughter.”
But if from a young age his disciplinary methods for you are
Slaps and fists engage
Then you become but scarred for life
And never a loving word is said
Unless in sarcastic tones
Or on the death bed.
The gaping chasm grows and grows
Between the father and the daughter.
You find that it becomes in sorrows;
“You are so f*****g fat…”
“Stop being a lazy b**** and get off your a**.“‘
In a life of full-time mother, full-time worker and full-time student
One finds oneself in frustration, anger, grief pooling.
In dedicating one’s life to pleasing one man
You find yourself pushing unto the limit of exhaustion
But still you have a plan.
If I could be thinner then maybe he’ll love me
If I could be prettier then maybe he’ll love me
If I could be smarter then maybe he’ll love me
With “thinner” comes exercise and dieting:
Physical exhaustion ensues
And I find my tired body
Becoming late for school:
“Stop being lazy…”
“Get out of bed and you’ll be on time!”
With “prettier” comes popularity
And newfound friends and acquaintances:
“You were supposed to be in at nine…
…You’re not going out again”
With “smarter” of course your focus has to be steady
To forget everything else and focus
You must be ready:
“Why the — is your room such a mess?”
“Get out of my sight”
“Go to bed.”
Well the books that are strewn all over my floor
Are to make me smarter, more and more
And this not for my pleasure; all for my Dad.
You find yourself nearing an end
The life you so vigorously hate
Seems to be angering him
So you wait.
You wait for the perfect time to find your escape
And plague him no longer
To no longer force your company upon where it is not wanted.
Say goodbye to the life you were condemned to live
And leave forever.
Maybe then he will say:
“I loved my daughter.”