When I had no development and I was small
My father would lift my up in his arms, toss me in the air toward heaven.
He would often tell me he loves me, and whenever I date a boy he will be the one to scare him off.
My father would cook, clean, and stubbornly watch his little girl grow.
When I grew and I had development, stretch marks and cellulite along with feminine curves
My father would knock me down, somewhere towards hell.
He would tell me how we’re alike, and whenever I date I’ll scare them away.
My father would beat, scream, manipulate, and bewilder me with violent tendencies.
I blocked it out for so long.
The screaming became static, something I hadn’t thought of.
But when I see myself reflecting violence in my lover’s eyes,
It occurs to me that maybe he knew the truth, and when people say
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree
If a father cheats, the daughter will face repercussions
It’s nothing but the stubborn, bewildering truth of nature.