That's Not My Daughter
That’s not my daughter,
that’s a monster.
Growing older, breathing harder,
Finding comfort in the fury
of his fists upon her body.
The drunken hits, her bloody lip,
The lies the morning after.
That’s not my daughter,
that’s a monster.
The bad grammar, all the drama--
Crying phone calls to her Momma.
Texting poison to her father.
“I swear this isn’t how we raised her,
She knows better.
She knew better.”
That’s not my daughter,
that’s a monster.
A shard of glass among the flowers.
Pawning us against them,
Her against him
In game that has no victors.
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