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Why is it that nothing I do matters,
until I’ve done it wrong,
when all I was trying to do is get your attention all along.
If I were to fly away I doubt you’d even notice,
but I know my fall is something I’d never miss.
Daddy, you say everything you do,
you do it because you love me so much,
so, then why is it an automatic reaction for me
to shy away from your touch?
I know when you wrestle with me, and play rough,
you only have the best of intentions;
“to make me tough,”
But Dad, I’m not a little boy,
And I’m not my brothers.
Can’t you see that I’m taking after my mother?
I’m sorry I’m not perfect,
and I apologize for not meeting your standards.
But I’m doing my best with you,
always spitting unkind words.
For as long as I can remember,
you’ve told me to stick up for myself.
I bet you never thought
it’d be bad for your own health.
Don’t tell me not to hit you back,
after you slap me across the face.
If that’s really what you wanted,
then all you ever taught me was a waste.
You never do what you say and you expect me to go along with it.
There’s only one way to say it, then.
You’re a hypocrite.
Can you remember all the times you made my cry?
You say it breaks your heart,
so what do you think it does to mine?
I probably shouldn’t be complaining.
My life’s not that bad.
Some kids don’t even have someone to call dad.
I’m sure someday I’ll thank you for everything you’ve done for me.
But until that day comes,
I’m not saying sorry.
Because I think you deserve everything you have coming to you.
You taught me not to take crap from anyone,
so I’m not taking it from you.