To say a piece of me is missing would be another cliche without meaning. So I'll say this:
With every tear you break my heart
With every adventure you're at the start
With every journey you're the destination
With every answer you pose another question

Mother said I could do nothing
Father said I can do all, so
Now I do all, and that's why
Most girls are closer with dad.

Mama didn’t know
Our Daddy could dance.
He kept it a secret
In the name of romance.
We knew he could sing,
He did it every day
How could we know
He could dance that way?

Go on and dance, Daddy dance!
Who knew he had rhythm?
Daddy had him some moves
And Mama go dance with him!

Daddy loved his music
But didn’t like to go out.
Mama loved to go to dances
But she never liked to pout.
She just suffered in silence
And danced in all alone
In the kitchen by herself
In her own jazzy zone.

Go on and dance, Daddy dance!
Who knew he had rhythm?
Daddy had him some moves
And Mama go dance with him!

The radio would come on
And Mama began to wiggle.
Dad sat and read his paper
But, he would quietly giggle.
Mama would take his hand
Try to get him to get up.
He’d just shake his head no
Go back to his coffee cup.

Go on and dance, Daddy dance!
Who knew he had rhythm?
Daddy had him some moves
And Mama go dance with him!

Then their anniversary came
And we could tell Daddy didn’t
Have any idea what he
Could give her as a present.
So, he got them all dressed
And took her out to on the town
And surprised our Mama good
When he boogied her around.

Go on and dance, Daddy dance!
Who knew he had rhythm?
Daddy had him some moves
And Mama go dance with him!

I called him daddy in bed,
but I didn't think he would leave me
the same way my father did.
Now I'm lying here
holding myself at 3 AM
because God knows
neither of them will do it.

My aunt’s in the garden,
     Growing gold.
My uncle’s in his new shirt,
     Growing mold.
My cuz’s in Af-ghan-i-stan,
     Growing cold.
I’m swimming in wine,
     Growing old.

This piece should make sense,
     But it don’t.
This piece should tell tales,
     Still, it won’t.
I’m home decades later,
     Or so I wrote.
My daddy’s days dead
     And so I’ll tote.

Yes, sir, I want you to spank me
With that hand I know so well
It is more than just five fingers
It’s the reason I rebel

Yes, sir, I want you to clank me
In bonds of silver and gold
Chained, I’m a precious gift to you
Unwrapping me never gets old

Yes, sir, I want you to yank me
Down on the floor to my knees
My gaze lowers at your command
I’m eager to do as you please

Yes, sir, I want you to flank me
Punish me from every side
I know I’ve been a naughty girl
Needing discipline you’ll provide

Yes, sir, I want you to crank me
Up to writhing ecstasy
Don’t stop ‘til I ******* beg you
Your tough love is what sets me free

Yes, sir, I want you to thank me
For being your precious pet
Even though I disobey you
It’s clear you love to see me sweat

Yes, sir, I want you to spank me
With the implement of your choice
Make it hurt to make me happy
In your dominance I rejoice

You ought to know that
whenever I see a young woman
holding her little baby
who probably looks like the daddy
I find my mind imagining my own
with you—only you
can’t think of anyone else but you

My 2am drunk phone call.
Underage ***** in a park.
'Don't tell mum' I plead you
'That I stayed out after dark'.

My shoes in your hand
And your shoes on my feet.
You tell me I'm not broken,
You make me feel complete.

I can't express the sense of pride
I feel to share your genes.
You'll never know my love for you
Or just how much you mean.