My eighteen yeared daughter
living and dreaming with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome,
As she grows up and out
hopes to become
"An old princess
with long purple hair
living in a GroupHome."
I'm not sure if this indicates
I did a shockingly good
or alarmingly bad
job as a thirteen-year dad
with positive therapeutic intent.
Until she smiles,
looks up at the blue-grey sky
with unimagined delight.
Behind these eyes,
Are hidden lies,
Fabrications made,
As memories fade.
Somewhere deep inside,
Alone I cower and hide,
To afraid to face you,
Not knowing what you'll do.
Long ago I learned
Of my lieing heart that yeared,
It knew not of your selfish ways,
My mind wants to flee, but my heart wants to stay,
And i'm alone now, shivering...quivering.
I bleed for your love,
you used to call me your dove,
but that was just a lie,
sowly, slowly I die...
While you watch, and laugh.
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