His Little Girl

By , Skokie, IL
it changes the meaning of abuse when the effect is only seen long term
if the scars he left were seen on my face, the answer would be clear
but they are in my thoughts, in my actions, and forever in my trust
a broken home does not translate to me as a broken mind in turn
when he sees my face as I speak to him, and not that of others
then and only then, when my pain stands in his way, will I smile and nod
and truly understand.
they do not see they do not hear they do not comprehend
they do not feel that falling response as my tears go undisturbed
I tell him in a way that is the clearest I can think of, yet somehow,
somehow. he continues in his ways.
his daughter sits before him, face streaked with tears and questions
"you are losing me"
but he does not care for the loss
only for the battle
the battle he lost the day he walked away
from me, and everything important to me
including those he hurt
so when they stand there and they question me
and quote the laws that I live by, I wonder who they think they are
to tell me who I am. to tell me what to believe. to tell me who to respect.
so when he calls to ask me how my day was, is he looking to understand?
or rather to pick up evidence that the fault lies somewhere else
somewhere beyond his line of vision
because as my father has taught me
the blame never lies within


so I make that decision, the one that should come later
and I am warned that he will do what he has done to the rest
make my life a living hell
but I realize, as I did before
that it will just prove my point
I am his daughter
but when he looks me in the eye
he does not see his little girl
he sees someone who is ready to fight
he sees the same look he has seen before
the look of the beginning
the beginning of a revolution





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