He touches you in all the wrong places,
"Dad, stop," you tend to utter,
but quickly after, he shoves another dollar bill into your mouth.
He says nothing, just stares.
Tears form in your eyes,
but you hold them back.
You convince yourself that you're stronger than that,
you're stronger than the tears.
But darling,
what monster convinced you that crying meant weakness?
Who dared to tell you that if you cried,
it meant you were weak?
"Go buy yourself something pretty," is all he mutters,
and you walk away like nothing even happened.

You throw yourself onto the bed,
shove your face into your pillow and lose yourself.
You don't even know who you are anymore,
he's destroying you.
You wonder why no one notices the sadness in your eyes,
or the lack of your beautiful smiles.
You put on a mask,
you try to hide it for as long as you can.

"Dad, stop."
Dollar bill.

Five years.  
Five. Years.
That’s how long it takes you,
to finally let someone in.
That's how long it takes you,
to reveal the source of your pain.
To put a reason behind why you search for attention
in all the wrong places.

It feels like he stripped you of your identity,
but you're still you.
You are still beautiful,
you are still strong,
you are enough.

You are everything,
And so much more. //