That’s Me


That's her
They don't say
They don't see the girl
With the daddy issues,
But you can see the symptoms.
The way she won't meet his eyes,
Flinches under his hug;
They aren't her father;
They might as well be.
She can laugh, joke, dance;
Who cares?
Because underneath it all,
She feels their stares breaking her down,
Forcing herup stairs
Of what if this and but maybe that
It's the commitment and the pressure.
It's a little too much.
Call it what you please,
But please don't call it out.
Where's her dad?
No, he's not dead.
That would be too easy.
Move on, they say.
I would, believe me.

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