running from the truth
thats all i've ever done
i cant keep going or i shall surely drop
i must stop and i must rexamine
so this is where i will start
with this pen and this peice of paper.
i must learn to cope with the truth or i must forever run
i knew from the begining that you loved me not
but try anyway to be the good little daughter.
i tried to be perfect and just like dady but i didn't realize until to late that daddy was far from perfect
daddy hurt more than his share.
he lied and cheated
and crushed his daughters dreams
she wanted love
unconditional love
but even that
you couldn't give her
you were to drunk
to notice
her cowering in the corner
or her cring herself to sleep
you were to drunk to notice
the cuts on her body
to drunk to notice that she was slipping
further and further away
you were to drunk
to see clearly the signs
that had all been there
you were to drunk
to know you killed her
you missed the signs
she died a little more each night
and each night
you drank a little more
and each night
you pushed her further over the edge
she used
your pen
and
your paper
but
they were always her tears
that fateful night
she decided
you were to drunk
to care
so why should she
she was tired
of running
she was tired
of picking up the peices
of her broken heart
the one thing she wished for
every night
was a love thats unconditional
a love that would fix everything
but,
even that
you couldn't give her
she couldn't make you care
and no longer
did she want
to try
so she used
your pen
your paper
your gun
and
then
she took
the one thing
she had
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nobody's perfect..yet we keep in mind that perfections truly exist..until something..anything could slash it through..making painful grip in our heart... Nice concept..wonderful write... Thanks for sharing...