I used to look up to you with all the stars in my blue eyes, the very ones you gave me.
Tell me, what did I do to make you hate me?
I loved you with every atom that makes up my soul.
But what I did to make you resent me?
It’s your blood coursing through my veins, your breath filling my lungs, and your flesh covering my body.
Your actions have taken a toll on me.
I want to go back to when you were happy with me. When your touch was a hug around the shoulders, not my neck. When your fingers on my cheeks were to wipe my tears, not a slap on the face. When being tossed in the air was fun, flying like superman, not up against a wall.
Daddy, please don’t be so angry. Please tell me what I did.
Now I can’t look at you without crying and quivering my chin.
I’m scared of you daddy, and now mom’s scared of me, too.
She can’t look me in my eyes without seeing you.
Tell me, daddy, are you mad at yourself?
Did you put your hands on me ‘cause you couldn’t hurt anybody else?
I’m angry because I hate you so much. You were there to tear me down, not build me up.
I guess I really should be thanking you, though, after all of this mess.
Because of you, everyone’s words ricochet off me like a bulletproof vest.
My skin is thick and my walls are up.
Thanks to you, though, dad, you are number one. You taught me what I should never do to anyone.
And though the scars you left aren’t visible to the naked eye, I feel them stinging my skin all the time.
If you really loved me, why did you leave me, huh?
I swear I’ll never lay my hands on somebody that I love, not unless that touch is one of love.
I hope guilt eats you alive. I hope you regret ever making me cry.
Remember all the red marks you put on my face? All the bruises staining the skin on my arms and legs?
You took the innocence of a young child away. You forced me to grow accustomed to the pain.
I hope you regret it because I never want to see you again.
I hope someday you remember me; remember what you did to me.
I hope your dreams strangle you in your sleep.
And you lie awake because the memory bursts you at the seams.
One day, maybe. One day.