Not His Daughter

The words that set me free were spoken to me by my mom a few years ago. She told me I got to choose my family. Not only who is, but who isn’t.

I am not

my fathers

daughter.

My laugh comes easily

my smile more so.

I am not

my fathers

daughter.

No matter who I’m with

words find their way

out of my mouth

in an effortless

comfortable 

manner.

I am not

my fathers

daughter.

Cruelty is not 

a second nature.

I am not

my fathers

daughter.

I don't hide behind

a bottle

or glass of wine.

I am not

my fathers

daughter.

No,

I did what he couldn't,

not even for his

own daughters.

I managed to stop drinking

through the DTs

and seizures

cravings and  drunk dreams and loss of all trust.

I am not

my fathers

daughter.

Every day since

I strive to gain back

every ounce

of the trust.

I will never stop

working for it.

I am not

my fathers

daughter.

When he tried to make

me choose

who I loved more:

him or Mom

I never picked.

Not even

when I thought

he might treat me better.

I am not

my fathers

daughter.

So whenever I remember

those hateful words

spewed at me in hate

“Your mother raised you wrong”

I just pull myself higher

and remember

I am not

my fathers

daughter.