Little Girl

Sun, 11/10/2013 - 18:44 -- shayymn

Location

I'm coming to you as a little girl who needs her father. This little girl has had too many to reach her.

This little girl has had too many nights full of boys who'd come in and take off her clothes, silent as a thief in the night, who'd kiss away unshed tears.

This little girl had so much heartache along with some heartbreak, her heart falling into the wrong hands only to be crushed again, as she looks on, not knowing whether to run or stay and she stays, thinking if her father doesn't love her, sex will... And that's what she commits to.

This little girl, who cries at night, tears like rocks. It pained her to cry. Headache after headache. Not telling him to stop because that was her only love. Arguments and sex, like weed and liquor, these two things kept her going. Someone should have told her to stop, but she couldn't.

Daddy's little who? Not princess.

She kept her crown tucked away, behind her heart, for she knew if she put it on, he'll take it away with his unfulfilled promises of love.

This little girl was scared. The boogeyman never visited her, but she had her doubts. Why? The boogeyman was in front of her. Kissing on her, whispering in her ear, how much he loved her and all she could think about was how her father wasn't there to say these words, to protect her, to turn the light on, so the darkness could fade away.

But he doesn't.

So she layed on the bed, thinking if her father doesn't love her sex will.

If her father doesn't love her, arguments will protect her.

And so right now, I'm coming to you as a little girl who needs her father.

But I see, it's too late... I've already been touched, stained... You weren't there.

She sits off in a corner, "You weren't there." Silently she repeats this, as if a prayer, "You weren't there."

Tears stain her face. "You weren't there."

Hair disheveled. "You weren't there."

Knock at the door. "You weren't there."

Door opens, he walks in. "You weren't there."

He reaches for her shirt. "You weren't there."

She opens her legs. "You weren't there."

Thinking to myself,

If my father doesn't love me, sex will.

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741