Nickelback dreams
written like wishes-
Creased over pages and
broken-book-spines
donated to used bookstores.
Pick out something new-
Smells like money
Smells like success
Smells like
somebody else's words in my mouth,
Hard to chew on
Hard covers poking
into hands used to holding
paper backs.
They weren't too fancy
but at least they were mine

Gold's only got value
for people who want to buy things
And the only currency that I understand
are your smiles
So what good is gold to me,
Anyways?

Boys don't cry
and girls are quiet
so how is it
that this world
is so full of
silent screams
and messed up kids
you ask?

Here is what I know:

You give and you give and you give

Because that's all you know how to do now

Because

Maybe if you keep giving you will be a good daughter

Except somewhere you must have gotten it wrong, gotten mixed up between the duties of a father and a daughter-

But you give and you give and you give

Maybe... maybe you can show him how worthy you are of love

Maybe... maybe he will learn how to give too

But

He takes.

Here is what I know:

He takes and takes and takes

He does not know what grade you are in but

You give him kindness

anyway

You give him love

anyway-

Darling, give him one more thing.

Give up.

When we were kids,

I loved you so sweetly

I loved you like I loved the taste of strawberries on my tongue

When we were kids,

I loved you in innocence

Under the mindset that you fit comfortably next to me when I lined my life up

Putting all the people together until they stretched like a road in front of me

A path to my success.

My road has potholes aplenty now

From where people left

It has different pieces and bumps in the asphalt from where people came in

It has speedbumps behind me from where I had to slow down over a heartbreak

Oh, when we were kids, I loved you so sweetly.

I like you now. I like you.

See, my tire rims have been dented so easily by the potholes in my journey

And I don't have the money to replace them if you decide to pick up your piece of the concrete and leave.

Here is what I know:

You give and you give and you give

You give everything to be his daughter, want to be just like him

Want to be loved

Want to be wanted

And he

Takes that at face value

A father must earn his title

You gave him his in advance in hopes that he'd earn it

Instead, somewhere along the way

You mixed it up, thought it was the daughter who needed to provide

Here is what I know:

He takes.

He takes.

He takes.

Give him one last thing, my dear.

Give him up.

I think you've mastered the art of ventriloquy

Since I always seem to hear the things you've said about me

From mouths that aren't your own