Who gave you right
To call yourself Daddy?
I remember the pressure
of your large palms
like wind on a black umbrella tent
smashing my skull
into the thick, dark, crimson carpet.
Your dry, paint-stained fingers
wrapped firmly 'round my shoulders
as my frail body, shoved
through air, finds a wall
tough as your fist
that used to scrape
itself across my cheek.
Who gave you right
to call yourself Daddy?
The sting of alcohol
in your breath,
burning beneath the blood
stained cuts on my skin
and causing my tears to well.

Who gave you right
To call yourself Daddy?
I remember the pressure
of your large palms
like wind on a black umbrella tent
smashing my skull
into the thick, dark, crimson carpet.
Your dry, paint-stained fingers
wrapped firmly 'round my shoulders
as my frail body, shoved
through air, finds a wall
tough as your fist
that used to scrape
itself across my cheek.
Who gave you right
to call yourself Daddy?
The sting of alcohol
in your breath,
burning beneath the blood
stained cuts on my skin
and causing my tears to well.
Your forceful roar, so close to me
that I could feel your droplets of
alcoholic saliva landing upon my freckles,
blending with the tears of blood
that dripped helplessly down
the side of my face.
I remember your head would shake
in complete rage
until your voice no longer existed.
It thundered through my home
what used to be our home,
and the walls began to tremble
as your beer-stenched self
made way through the front door.
My tiny feet were left with no choice
but to hide and pray
that someday an angel would come
and carry me away.
The fury in your eyes
seeped into me
like hell's tempestuous black hole
and eventually swallowed me whole.
Who gave you right
to call yourself Daddy?