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A verse from an abused daughter to her father, how she still yearns for the father, who crushed her dreams of being a father’s daughter. A poignant verse by Blue Eve.
For those were the fingers that I planned to hold
to cross the snows of summer-time,
For that was the chest I planned to rest
to play my dreams of sleeping vine.
For those were the legs I planned to ride,
past eternal slopes with meadows green,
For that was the mouth I planned to gaze,
singing lilting notes of rushing streams.
For those were the eyes I planned to drink my swirling fear
of the room so dark,
For that was the breath, I planned to take,
drawing strength to rise, past a jerk.
Then, those were the fingers that came to scratch
the soft flaps of the inner me,
Then, that was the chest that pinned me down,
the harsh traps of fear in me.
Then, those were the legs that trampled past
the little bones that hid my self,
Then, that was the mouth that maimed my shouts as
I cried out loud in seething pain.
Then, those were eyes that blazed with hunger,
ones I viewed in horror tales,
Then, that was the breath that crushed my trust
as I begged for mercy, all in vain.
Yet, the love I had for you, since your sperm gave me shape,
Yet, the trust I put in you, since your arms pat me to rest,
Yet, the faith I kept in you till you planned to rip me through
Went on and on…
in my tiny heart,
calling for my Daddy best.
Pic from Net.