Everyone’s a critic nowadays.
Giving us all the words to say,
Telling us which ways we can feel,
And in what areas we must be like steel.
The funny thing is, no one is listening
But then again it’s not funny at all –
Because once your world starts twisting,
No one will run to your frightened call.
But you, you were my toughest critic!
A firecracker at the end of a short wick.
You’re the reason for all my pain.
You’re the reason I feel I’m going insane!
What happened? Where did I go wrong?
When did I stop being your princess, and become
Like the lyrics of an annoying song.
Those hands were meant to protect me,
To guard my eyes from the evil I would see.
To comfort a broken heart,
To hammer the nail that would hang my art.
They were meant to tuck me into bed,
Mess up the hair on my head.
Those hands instead have met my lips with heavy blows,
And reached to that bottle in your life’s lows.
Those hands would rip our family apart,
As you selfishly filled them with lustful art.
Daddy, those hands were meant to love.
Those lips were meant to kiss me good night
And to utter stories about castles and Knights.
Those lips were meant to speak beauty into me,
Making me confident for all the world to see.
To build a bridge of trust, love, and happiness.
Those lips however, have made me worthless.
Those lips would never touch my forehead
But instead would tell me lie after lie until I was well fed.
Those lips would rip apart any tools to build trust,
And they would repeat my faults until I felt I would bust.
But daddy, those lips were meant to love.
As I lay here on the floor, I believe one thing.
I believe that your words deeply sting,
I believe that you have failed at being a father,
And as a coward blamed it on your daughter.
I believe that I have every right to be angry,
To be hurt, to hate you, and to flee.
But I also believe that I love you dad,
And I love the issues that you gave me.
Because although I should be sad, mad, or bad.
I have actually had my eyes open wide enough to see…
That there are hands that were spread on a cross,
So that one day I would realize the pains true cause.
See, my real daddy hung on that tree,
And through his lips He forgave me.
Those hands have been my comfort in the darkness,
They protected me when I was powerless.
They have rocked me into slumber,
And have sheltered me from the thunder.
And those lips? Those lips have given me life!
They have told me I’ll make a beautiful wife,
They have reminded me I am beautiful
And they have uttered to my heart to be full.
They have told me I posses the power,
That these daddy issues don’t make me a coward.
His hands have guided mine to prayer,
And now fear, bitterness, and doubt are no longer players.
He has spoken to me life and forgiveness,
And now daddy I want you to know one thing…
I may have issues because of you, but you are powerless.
Because I choose to forgive you, and love you, in spite of everything.
Because I am the daughter of the one true king.