The Broken Angel

Fifteen, a whole life ahead of me.  

I messed up because I wondered if they cared.  

How can I love myself when Daddy isn’t there?

I’m in this world all alone.

I lay in the tub, there I cry, asking why I feel this way inside.  

Little do I know, he looks at me like a broken angel.  

Instead of seeing me as a whore, like the others do.

He looks at me as his flame.

Feather by feather they tear my wings.  

I can’t fly, it hurts too much.  

Their words, their hate, drown me.  

“Ugly, I wish you weren’t my daughter,” the water starts to fill.  

“I never loved you,” the water filled me so much it feels like stones pressed on my chest.   

It’s like fire to breath.  

It kept filling up until it consumed all of me.  

I push myself down because I don’t want to fight.  

I don’t want to feel this way inside.    

Everything went black and I stopped fighting.  

He never got to tell me he thinks I’m a broken angel.  

He never told me how even though my wings are torn, my halo is still bright.

He never told me he didn’t hate me.  

He never told me he did care.  

That wasn’t the only thing I didn’t know.  

I didn’t know I was pregnant from the one before.

From the first one who broke me.  

The first one to take the first feather.