Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
My father randomly calls me all the time, not by my name, but by an 'ey' He never liked my name, I suppose, cause he never seemed to call me by it Needless to say, I hated it too My name, it is a nuisance, misspelled by many, and thrown around I am always blamed for the things I haven't done, for the things I can't change, withstand and control One word that describes me: Solitude The people who really know me also knows how I like to be alone It's more of a habit than a nature I stay alone cause I'm used to it Being an only child is one reason, being a bullied child is another And my father didn't like my solitude, indeed He'd told me, "You'll always be alone forever, cause you make everyone hate you" And I thought it true, I am such a fool I remember, as a child, I've hurt people, leaving scratches and hitting them I sliced off a girl's pinky finger once for calling me ugly in front of the whole class I never took scissors to school after that day, understanding that I am my father's daughter, that I might as well cut their throats open, for the years of humiliation and darkness they gave me in return for my loud silence My mother knew, she'd seen me cry a lot, but she was as helpless as I was She didn't pull me out when I was drowning in the horrible things that happened to me She didn't hear me when I was burning, caught on flames that my father started At ten years old, I dreamed of being a star but by fifteen, I surrendered, I gave up All it took was my father's cruel words, to pierce my heart and shatter me I stopped looking at my reflection hoping that one day it'll disappear I cursed my appetite, ate less and grew scared of my body I was called vile names that a father must never use to call his daughter I always had bruises on my knees, from kneeling to god to end my suffering He answered none of my prayers; I abandoned him If only these memories would die down instead of rubbing salt into my wounds If only my mother was strong, her rage would've saved me from all of that damage If only my father wasn't my father, he would've been proud of me and he wouldn't have hurt me
0
Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 2:42 AM UTC
Bruises
My father randomly calls me all the time, not by my name, but by an 'ey' He never liked my name, I suppose, cause he never seemed to call me by it Needless to say, I hated it too My name, it is a nuisance, misspelled by many, and thrown around I am always blamed for the things I haven't done, for the things I can't change, withstand and control One word that describes me: Solitude The people who really know me also knows how I like to be alone It's more of a habit than a nature I stay alone cause I'm used to it Being an only child is one reason, being a bullied child is another And my father didn't like my solitude, indeed He'd told me, "You'll always be alone forever, cause you make everyone hate you" And I thought it true, I am such a fool I remember, as a child, I've hurt people, leaving scratches and hitting them I sliced off a girl's pinky finger once for calling me ugly in front of the whole class I never took scissors to school after that day, understanding that I am my father's daughter, that I might as well cut their throats open, for the years of humiliation and darkness they gave me in return for my loud silence My mother knew, she'd seen me cry a lot, but she was as helpless as I was She didn't pull me out when I was drowning in the horrible things that happened to me She didn't hear me when I was burning, caught on flames that my father started At ten years old, I dreamed of being a star but by fifteen, I surrendered, I gave up All it took was my father's cruel words, to pierce my heart and shatter me I stopped looking at my reflection hoping that one day it'll disappear I cursed my appetite, ate less and grew scared of my body I was called vile names that a father must never use to call his daughter I always had bruises on my knees, from kneeling to god to end my suffering He answered none of my prayers; I abandoned him If only these memories would die down instead of rubbing salt into my wounds If only my mother was strong, her rage would've saved me from all of that damage If only my father wasn't my father, he would've been proud of me and he wouldn't have hurt me
Krish_E_S
Written by
Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 2:42 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem