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tyler Jun 2017
the grey just comes sometimes

other times I think myself into it. I wish I could think myself out of it just as easily.

I loved her and I love him because of every way they are different from you

every way they love me differently and better than you do. than you know how.

father's day shouldn't be like this. it shouldn't be a time like this. I don't want it to always be like this.

I don't want my kids to grow up in a house knowing there are days in a year mom won't be able to get out of bed

knowing those days are connected to a man that is nothing like their father. a man not capable of growing up enough to teach his children anything intentionally.

I don't want an anxiety attack to be forever hanging in the shadows for me exact days a year. I want to love and be loved without feeling like you're in the room telling me I'm doing it wrong.

I want you to be my daddy. that's all I've ever wanted.

but instead, I've gotten Anthony.

and because of that, I will always be the 5th grader you bullied. the one you made to feel less than. the one you showed over and over again that she couldn't be herself in your presence.

and now at 19, I deal with the consequences.
I face the realities.

I will never come out to you.
I will never run to you when my heart is broken.
I will never get to ask you if your grey is the same shade as mine.
I will never get to ask if you've ever gotten so far into it that it seems like a shade of black. I won't get to ask how you got out of it. how I get out of it.
my children won't know you in the ways I want them to.
my children won't understand. I won't give them a father who would make them understand.

sometimes I want to wish you away. other times I am grateful for the lessons you have taught me. I wish I knew what kind of time this was.
I write here sporadically & I think it makes me appreciate it more. Thank you Hello Poetry for this space.
Anders Thompson May 2017
YOUR FATHER IS DEAD
And yet you will not let that dead man rest his dry bones
In the dirt, in the grave where he belongs.

YOUR FATHER HAS BEEN GONE THREE YEARS
And yet you speak of him like he sits up north still
In his cabin, smoking his wretched lungs to flame.

YOUR FATHER WAS ABUSIVE
And yet despite every beating, every ****** attempt
In your mind he was the greatest man to ever live.

YOUR FATHER DOESN'T DESERVE YOUR LOVE
And yet even though he never told you what you wanted to hear,
In your head you make up his words: "I love you."

YOUR FATHER ****** YOU UP
And yet you tell me about the lessons he taught you like a saint;
In your life you repeat his brutalities, his learning legacy.

YOUR FATHER LIVES IN YOU
And yet you are blind to his quirks you repeat, that
In your daughter you have made a new you:

Blind, quivering, trapped, choking on tears
She is everything you were and you try to make her
Everything you wished you were
But in your repression, your denial --
When you cling to his grave and the things you made up about him
Like a leech, like a disease, like a haunting,
You let him live again in you.

And he was not a good man.
He was a hurtful man.
A proud man.
A bad man.
A killer of your precious, finite vitality.

And just like he destroyed you,
You will destroy her.
Laura Slaathaug May 2017
Brother, you told me once you were scared
to have a daughter.

You knew this when you baby-sat
a baby girl with your wife,

and you, a former American Army infantryman

melted and was brought down in a way

that the guns you faced in Afghanistan never could.

She’ll be my princess, I remember you saying.

A little girl all dressed in pink,
whatever she’ll ask for, you'll give it.

You were relieved when the first child

you and your wife had was

a baby boy, but to be honest,

you melt all the same,
even 9 months later.

But I’ve always wanted to ask,
“Why are you afraid to have a daughter?”

You know the stories how our mother gave birth for the first time

and how she labored in the car
when she drove herself to the hospital.

And how your pregnant wife came home on her lunches from work

and would cry on the floor because her back hurt so bad,

But she still sat up and went back to work--

the same way our older sister cried on her first day back

from maternity leave and parted with her baby boy for the first time,

the same way Mom went back to work when you and Dad deployed.

What you know of women is that we’re strong,

that we dry our tears and continue on with the world.

Really what we do is keep the world spinning
with the force of how much we love.

So anything, you give your daughter
will be returned in multitudes.

You were taught the same way to love that I was--

instinctively and unconditionally and unrelentingly.

And maybe you’re afraid that your daughter

won’t be able to walk home alone at night

or that no one will listen to her,

And you know this is a poem from your younger sister.

So savor that I’m saying you’re not wrong,
because I don't know when that will happen again.

Your daughter may have to work harder to be heard

and to keep herself safe than any son you have.

But know no matter, how strong she is or how hard she works

that **** still happens

and it won’t be her fault.

and you know because you have two sisters

and you’ve heard our stories.

Statistics say that 1 in 3 women experience ****** or physical violence.

We have one President, who bragged on a Hollywood Access bus

about grabbing women by the *****  

because they let him

and because no one stopped him.

Brother, be scared of the men who would hurt your daughter,

but brother, don’t be scared to have a daughter,

Because she will love you the same way
your wife, your mother,

and your sisters have loved,

that our bodies may break and tear in the doing
but we will choose to do it all over again.
DblNickel May 2017
This morning I wake on Mother's Day
My daughters are in the other room
Because in an act of true motherhood
I made a bargain for breakfast:

Give them my phone
For one more hour alone.
where's my coffee?
Francie Lynch Apr 2017
You don't mention whom you met,
How you ripped your small black dress.
You don't share intimate stories;
What caused a smile,
What stokes your worries.
Arms dangle by your side,
You can't slip your hand in mine,
Hold me with your eyes,
Lay your head on my bed
With your good-night sigh.
We don't get our get-aways
As we did in by-gone days;
You left your keys to house and car,
Saying you would travel far;
So you hitched your hidden dreams
To a rising star,
Left my world, but not my life,
Polished your new cultured pearls.
Husbands now call you wives;
But you'll always be
My three wee girls.
Time keeps on ticking into the future.
Francie Lynch Jan 2017
My girl has this boyfriend,
I simply just don't trust;
When she brings him by the house
He dotes and makes a fuss,
Schmoozing me relentlessly,
Something's in the works,
Just teetering on the cusp.
I've got my keen eyes sharpened,
He isn't fooling me,
I've known the likes of him before,
When I was young and free.
But that was someone else's daughter,
No relationship to me.
Yes, she was someone else's dauaghter,
And I was young and free.
Francie Lynch Jan 2017
Had I known, for certain,
With a seen future,
Had no doubt,
Safely forewarned
Of my foreboding loss,
Of how we'd turn out,
Would I?
Knowing I'm here enduring
Hearing stories concerning
You.
Yes... I would.
Even though I sit here,
Writing silly poems,
I get it out,
I read it.
It helps.
Ah! But why Would?
Many say we failed,
But
You can't make
Teachers and scholars
From exceptional daughters
With failure.
We're merely a statistic
In family demographics
To them.
And yet,
Three girls don't add up to
Your subtraction.
Damian Murphy Jan 2017
You will always be my little girl
Though now a woman in your own right,
And as you step out into the world
I pray to God you will be alright.
Though in cotton wool I would wrap you
To keep you from all harm if I could,
I understand that if I were to
That I would do you more harm than good.
Over the past few years you have grown
Into a wonderful young lady;
The strength of character you have shown
Tells me I have no need to worry.
So go girl! Do what you have to do,
There's a great big world waiting for you!
But remember, whatever you do,
That I shall always be here for you.
Love Dad x
Inspired by my two wonderful daughters <3 <3
yúyīn Jan 2017
Alone in bed she looks around
Afraid of what's to come
The shadows dance along her wall
She hears her daddy hum

Tears fill her eyes she starts to cry
Up out of bed she runs
And locks the door; the **** then turns
And Daddy whispers one

"Don't make me wake your mother up
To tell her you've been bad
Come give Daddy a kiss goodnight-
You're making me very mad"

She turns the key and steps away
And Daddy walks inside
Slowly shutting down again
She crawls inside to hide

Alone inside her little world
She cannot feel the pain
Innocence lost long ago
Left in a ****** stain

Images fly through her mind
First her then Kristy too
Baby Carrie's next in line
Before the night is through

Anger builds around her heart
"Please stop!" she tries to yell
But Daddy's hand is on her neck
He knows she'll never tell

She struggles underneath his wieght
As he removes her shoe
She tries to hit but misses
And Daddy whispers two

His grip on her is tightened
And his fist comes crashing down
She tries to fight unconsiousness
As Daddy rips her gown

He rolls her on her belly
Pulls her close so he won't miss
Then he enters hard and quickly
As he gives her "Daddy's kiss"

The minutes seem like hours
As she opens up her eyes
And she hears the desperation
In her little sister's cries

Daddy thrusts in one more time
Then rolls onto his back
And she just lies there motionless
And awaits his next attack

She looks into her sisters eyes
And reaches out a hand
And little Carrie reaches back
And slowly starts to stand

But Daddy isn't finished yet
And Carrie's pushed aside
He holds her down and spreads her legs
And takes another ride

She falls asleep all bruised and naked
****** and surrounded
By the sisters she had reached for
While her innocence was pounded

14 years of **** and lies
She fall into depression
And suicide is what's to come
Of a childs molestation

3 days later a little body
Washes up on shore
A suicide; her wrists are slit
But the sherrif sees much more

The headlines scream the story
Of a young girls devastation
And the silent screams that go unheard
All throughout the nation

But Kelly's story isn't through
Her secrets now unfold
For she tells them with the bruises
On her body now so cold

Now the lights flash through the windows
And there's people all around
Asking all these questions
But we don't make a sound

Kristy hasn't spoken since they
Told her Kelly died
And I am little Carrie
In a corner I now hide

Handcuffs bind his hands and wrists
The evidence they found
Her body told of the abuse
When Daddy was around

"How many?" Mommy askes of him
"How many and God why?"
And Daddy looks away from her
And Mamma starts to cry

"How many did you do this to?"
And then he looks at me
My green eye bruised the night before
And Daddy whispers "three"
This brings tears to my eyes everytime
I haven't been a victim, but this touches me very deeply.
** I can't remember the poet who wrote it
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