I Wish I Meant More, Daddy

Answering with trembling hands, tear-filled eyes

She cries because she’s not good at goodbyes.

The daughter of a syringed, burnt spoon man

The hospital says they’ll do what they can.

Never has she seen his veins without tracks

Or who he really is behind his masks.

She always finds his powder-filled baggy,

When his fist hits, she still calls him “Daddy”.

She’s bitter now, because of all your lies,

And you’re a narcissist who stole her life.

You’ll cause less pain if you hasten leaving

Than to be with her, dead and still breathing.

Answering with steady hands, tearless eyes

I pick up the phone, I am not surprised.