I never wanted to be the girl with
Daddy Issues
But maybe I was all along
They were just hidden in the layers of my skin
Next to the time you held a knife to my brothers throat
Seeping slowly
Silently
Into my blood stream.
In fact I literally had them carved into my ribs
The irony in those words have no choice but to follow me
As visible as the secrets we were collectively keeping
The idea that all that matter is that I love myself
Reflected in your narcassism.
