Father may I, may I tell you that I'm grateful?
Father may I, may I tell you that I'm thankful?
And not for all the right reasons
because you've wronged me,
words like jagged talons from your lips remind me,
I have been imprisoned by the visions of your perceptions,
of my immeasurable imperfections, too ugly, too stupid.
And your harsh ways are no longer lessons,
but life plans, consumed by my soul
and genetically encoded, I'm defected.
I'm the spawn of wedlocked genitals
and lustful actions perfected.
And I try to remember childhood dreams
because I'm at my childhood's end.
Are we all just forgotten memories
clinging on the particles of time,
for Father Time's clock's made of steel
and it won't bend.
And Daddy I'm a big girl with big girl dreams
Da Vinci paint me a picture,
put me on a scheme.
The, world is my greatest desire
But you've shut me in
and cut my vocal cords,
silenced, I'm a one man empire
stripped down to fabrics of my corduroys.
Father may I, may I tell you that you're critical?
Father may I, may I tell you, you've never called me beautiful?
In more ways than countless you've established my existence
as the ghostly presence of the unaborted daughter that took
the placement of your wishes for a third son.
I'm the constant reminder, brightly lit red Facebook notification that
you're hateful words aren't enough
so let's go back to round one.
Your voice continuously resounds
in my head, your taunting verbal attacks
are the epitome of my weaknesses
when contrasted to my strengths,
there are none.
I bleed my emotions on every sleeve that I wear,
every thought that I hold,
every breath I exhale
because the silence is so deafening
and I've tried division and subtraction
but I'm always the outcome.
Angry tears have become as infinite
as grains of sand
repressed words as heavy as the heart that holds them
And I've recited many prayers for your condemnation.
For everyone that asks, receives
For everyone that seeks finds
For everyone that knocks, a door shall be open
And I'm crossing the river of Styx
and my teardrops are my tokens.
Father may I, may I tell you that you're hurtful?
Father may I, may I tell you that you're frightful?
Boomboxes are unable to box your vocal booms
and when lightening strikes its the upcoming collision
of your Hitlerian commandments and my failing servitude to
let your poison sink into me,
and erase the knowledge of what I've become
And not let you define me by the mistakes that I've done.
Father may I, will I, can I tell you that I love you?
Because though you're enslaved
by your own chains of darkness
I've stepped into the light and locked our hands
so we can fight this.
You are the razor to strike me
when I've flown too high,
and the flames ignited to keep me from drowning
and though these words are rarely spoken
It's your thievery of my freedom
that has let me express them.
Father may I, may I tell you that I love you?