All of the things I’ve never had the courage to share.

Dear Daddy,


Growing up, you were my role model. I’m not exactly sure why, but I was always your little girl.

You were the parent who never punished me. You let me have exactly what I wanted. Unless what I wanted, was your attention. You were usually gone, but those few times you did make an appearance I was too distracted by your soft words to see all of the destruction you were causing.


When I was born - You were in jail. You didn’t even sign my birth certificate. Nice going.

Kindergarten - I went to Georgia with you. I was so excited to see you. Eventually, you brought us home, but a couple of days later, I got the chicken pox. You drove all the way back to get me and take me back to Georgia with you so that my mama and sister wouldn’t get sick. I thought “maybe this is how a real daddy acts”.

Second Grade - You’d come to visit. I had a birthday party to go to and I reluctantly went. Mama let you stay at our house while we were gone. When we got back your bible was out with a note on it that said you’d be back in a little bit and to please hold on to your stuff. Typical daddy. But this time before you left, you took the $500 mama had hidden in the closet for our Christmas presents. Mama called the police.

Fourth Grade - I had a 5K to attend. You promised me you’d pick me up and take me. You were coming all the way from another state just to cheer me on. I should’ve known better. When you called and said you couldn’t make it I was so upset that I cried my eyes out, googled how many steps it would take to complete a 5k and I walked around my house for hours.

Seventh Grade - I was homeless again. It was the last week of seventh grade and I hadn’t talked to you in over a month. I was calling all of the hospitals and jails. You had gotten arrested again.

Ninth Grade - I was stressed about finals. You said you would pick me up and we got a hotel room. I went to the pool to relax in the hot tub but when I got back into the hotel room you were snorting lines of coke.

Tenth Grade - We went into the gas station together. I gave you the money for a pack of cigarettes and a drink. You had to be able to blow a certain BAC level so that you could make it into the detox program that night. We went next door to the Subway. You yelled and yelled at me for being inconsiderate and for being an awful daughter, and took the sub I had just bought you and threw it across the floor.

Eleventh Grade - It was father’s day. You called me and told me you wanted to jump off a bridge. You were homeless again and I begged mama to make some food for you and go find you. We eventually found you and you let us take you to a homeless shelter.

Twelfth Grade - Christmas. We spent the night in a hotel room. You got drunk and fell asleep while telling me about all of the mistakes you’ve made in your life.


Mama has always been there for me. We might have been homeless a couple of times, but she has always made sure we are together. She tries to make every holiday fun. Se always helps me when I ask her. She drives me, although sometimes to reluctantly, to school every day, to every induction ceremony, to practice, to work, and to the store. She is my true role model.


- Love, C


This poem is about: 
My family


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