Open Letter to My Dad.

First born child. It's a girl.

Born into a title. Daddy's little girl.

Spitting image. Same temperament.

Walk like you. Talk like you. Form opinions, take stances, chances, speak like you.

Daddy's girl. The prototype. In the darkness supposed to be the light.

Explain what happens when daddy's girl is no longer the light but the darkness in his world.

When perfection slips from her grasp.

And making daddy gray happens every other day.

When teenage years, bring fatherly fears

And that image that's painted

Daddy's little girl is tainted.

When the mistakes stab their way into a once peaceful sleep

Because daddy's little girl is running and slipping trying to find her own two feet.

Head held down in shame. Painful to speak her name.

Well daddy now you know.

Heavy is the head

And though I've failed. Staying down would be a bigger issue. But I'm trying to prevail. And though sometimes I'm an incarnated version of hell. Daddy.

The sweet linen of my sleep is unwoven by knowing that miles away

Your hair is growing more and more gray

Day by day

Because of the mistakes that I make.

So

Even though things look low

I just pray you know

That it wasn't your fault

You did not err

You weren't a perfect father but you were there.

There's no daddy issue

No neglect. Abuse.

Just an imperfect me.

Doing imperfect things.

And for the hurt I'm sorry

For the anger I apologize.

For hiding, lying, the tears. I'm sorry.

First born child.

First to deal the blow.

To bring down the highest of highs with the lowest of lows.

It's a girl. A blessed curse.

But I hope you'll find solace in knowing that the first is the worst and I'll do my best

To make sure that my sisters don't follow in raggedy footsteps.

For them I'll be better.

For them I will continue.

For they deserve every ounce of love, left in you. -Ley.