Daddy's Little Girl

(On the writing of a poetry assignment entitled: Daddy's Little Girl)

These black tinged tears pitter
patter across the page
painting rings of splattered ink
on empty words.
Do you see?

Their print now blurs with blots of pain
raining truth on my disguise
they wash my lies
of forgery.
Now can you see?

The title stares in discontent,
disbelief of the words below.
I think it knows.
But,

I won't show it what he did to me,
no, what if someone sees?
My lies scribe on and on and on,
so familiar with such ease,
why can't they see?

The tears are mounting,
my words are drowning on the page,
come someone save them
from the wave,
before they all get washed away.

I'm not okay.

The words can't hide me anymore
like a broken mask, for my cruel world.

He used to call me "Daddy's Little Girl."

These tears I weep, they are not free
their price is steep, they've shown you me.

Now do you see?