Dear Daddy,
Do you know what these men say to me?

With their
eyes and their mouths
when I walk on the street.

With a grin and a nod
and a look up and down.
A wink and a kiss
and a cat call heard from downtown.

With my skirt short
and my top
low,
It’s a cold world daddy
and no
doesn’t mean no.

Daddy do you know
how these men look at me?

Like I’m a piece of meat
strutting down the street?
With my head buds in
and my favorite song on.

I’m asking for it Daddy,
I’m in the wrong.

Do you know how it feels
not to wear what I like?

To walk a little faster
when I’m alone at night?

Daddy the world is my predator
and I am it's doe,
Daddy what happens
when I can’t say no?

My mother thinks I'm a doctor
I just don't have the guts
To tell her I spent all my college doe
On beer, wine, women and such

So after I faked my graduation
Said I was moving to the South
To help the less fortunate among us
Another lie I let slip out

I'm now in the south of Florida
Where some may call me a ***
Living in a citrus grove along the coast
Not answering to anyone

It's really not such a bad life
This do nothing life I've made
I hear Moms proud of me at afternoon tea
Telling the girls of all the lives I save

I do my share of dumpster diving
That's where I got the idea
Behind a real doctors office one day
With some of their stationary I nabbed

I did a little doctoring
After all I do play one in Moms mind
Doesn't look too lame where I inserted my name
Then wrote my Mom about the kids and the wife

I've created such an elaborate charade
It's now gotten all out of hand
As I panhandle my way up and down
The Sunshine states surf and sand

Mom now says she wants to visit
Can't wait to meet the wife and kids
Don't know how I let it get this crazy
And how it all lead up to this

Now I'm scrambling to find a vacant house and a woman
With a couple of kids that look just like me
That can go along with a ruse for a week in mid-June
Since I told her that's when  I'd be free

I'm thinking I should of studied in college
Instead of being this mind numbing huckster
Telling lie after deepening lie
Just so my Mother would think I'm a doctor

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. //

i once met a stranger,
he who cause my laughter,
he who makes me flatter,
and i who became his admirer.

what is this something?
this love for him i am feeling,
i know this feeling is worth denying,
but why am i still embracing?

do we fit each other? nope,
but then i found myself still holding the rope.
i told myself to stop holding on and let go,
but instead, i didn't follow it. no.

i once met a stranger,
he who became my lover.
but everything stays temporarily,
i need to accept that we aren't meant to be.

the stranger,
who became my partner,
that turned to be my lover,
was again a stranger.

I sometimes wield the pen in spite
Of why I am convinced I write
The poetic words that I spill

Spill like a glass of water
That’s been stirred to overflow
By my feelings and thoughts or so
I have gotten to know
The will of the flow
The direction that it wants to go
That’s what po-
etry is all about, no?

Because poem starts
with a P for personal
Not popular
Or populous
Not for the people who prefer prying
Pickpocketing or playful plying
In the placid plains inside
It’s for the persons who pray
To the poet’s plight

To go out on an odyssey,
with an O, the second letter
Not omniscient
Or omnipotent
For oscillating with your own
Is only for ones once overthrown
By an onslaught of hydrogen per-oxide
Those ostracized and odd
Off, yet open to the outside

E is the third letter
And it stands for emotional
Or extorted
until emptiness
Extended
after the excavation had ended
and emotion was evacuated ere
The embodiment of ecstasy
Had been enterred here

Lastly M stands for me!
Me, myself and I!
Not the masses who maim
My mind and meticulously aim
For the mark on my midbrain
Just the men and wo-men who make do
With musing about the mechanisms of
Mother Earth and her miracles too

Poetry is a gift
Out with it to be at ease
Especially for yourself
May it help you find peace