daddies have it hard.

i am tired of reading poems about how much you hate your daddy
stop talking, please.
daddies
have it hard.

mommies get to be the nice ones
(if you are lucky)
get to hold the baby
snuggle her
tell her
she is loved
daddies must be hard
sometimes
daddies
have it hard.

even if they are wrong
you must allow for change
if you cannot, stop asking others
to allow YOU to change
it's not fair.

some daddies don't know
how to be good daddies
forgive them
do not
hate them
some daddies are like children
they need to be held,
too
sometimes

forgive them.
the world runs on forgiveness
and it hasn't been running for two years
you could make it all better
if you'd ******* try.

forgive
daddy

put one more welt
onto the canvas my mother made for me
doesn't even bother me
i hope she feels it
somewhere
somehow
she deserves
to hurt as much as i do

i had this strange notion that new clothes would make people want me.
like a tripping over a new stereotype and taking it home to dry
would make people notice me
like my pictures on instagram
now that i can hashtag "gamergirl"
"nerdgirl"
"glasses"
"geek".

like somehow big bows and tight jeans
loose sneakers and earcuffs
and fake glasses
would finally sort me into the right file
with all the other people
like me (?)

like me.
are you like me
as in the clothes i'm wearing
the movies i'm watching
the games i'm playing
are you like me like the words i use
like the smiles i smile
like the imitation kim kardashian perfume that i buy (?)

i had the feeling that people would notice me
that hipster boys in starbucks would take a sideglance, then go for another peek
that boys from ivy-league schools
would ask for my number
that gamestop employees would stand too close to me...
and i was right.

but being right doesn't always mean you're happy
and though i am somehow now interesting
and attractive
and easy to sort into small plastic boxes
i feel
empty
poor
cold
materialistic

basically, i feel like every girl i have ever envied.
i don't know why i envied them.

they are not like me.

it's funny how skin melts
and it's funny how i keep touching a hot iron to my arm
and it's funny how afraid i am of it
but it's funny how i love it
and it's funny how i feel better
and it's funny how ****** up i am

what isn't funny
is what you did to me