I question my father
Looking at me as if I’m some kind of bother
Asking me why I’m interrupting his TV show
And I want to snarl back that you’re missing me grow
You've only ever seen me as some lost little lamb
Not for the person that I truly am:
A girl. A woman. A peaceful warrior.
Your sickness has left my mindset a tad bit gorier
You expect pity, a pat on the back
but how can I do that when all I see is what you lack

I question your thoughts and your vices
Never seeing that we’re the ones who are paying the prices
Within your hand, a cigarette always lays
Your addiction makes me think that you wouldn’t miss me if I left for endless days
You only see you and not your family
Is this an eternal curse, silently damning me?

I question you as a grandfather
I’m all grown up now, and I live by the water
I wonder how you’ll react to my own precious child
with our relationship fragmented, having never been reconciled
Will you hold her, soothe her, and watch her play
Or will you draw back, leaving us in further decay

I constantly questioned my father.
Am I still a bother? A good daughter?
Would you have me as I am, or do you not give a damn?
A scorned, weathered, and bitter Maddy.
But while I question my father,
I still miss my daddy.