Dearest Daddy

A bullet straight through my heart,
Tearing my love for you apart.
I’m not saying that I love you any less,
Just that your bullet left love a mess.
Scattering my emotions to the earth,
Making me question my own worth,
Leaving me empty and dry,
Wishing so soon to die.
Dearest daddy, what shall I do?
When the smoking gun is held by you?
I’ll never be whole again,
Without a father to heal my pain.
Without that strength to keep me tall,
I’ll never be myself, surrounded by these walls,
Walls built by pain and rejection,
That lets through only the worst infection.
Dearest daddy, what shall I do?
When all this pain is not seen or felt by you?



All day today that song “Payphone” has been stuck in my head. You know it- ‘I’m at a payphone trying to go home all of my change I’ve spent on you where did the time go baby I’m so cold where are the plans we made for two’ etc. It’s a depressing song, but it also really speaks to me.
It’s how I’ve felt for as long as I can remember.
Ever since I was a child, I’ve had this aching wish and longing to go somewhere I feel at home, but I’ve never found it. It’s why I’ve tangled myself in a stream of bad relationships. I’ve been looking for something safe and comforting, something like a home. I keep paying out every part of me, giving out my time and compassion, my friendship, my love, my body amd whatever else I have to give to those who need it. But it’s never enough. I keep giving and giving but nothing ever seems to fill this hole I have inside. I feel like an emotional wormhole. Nothing sticks, nothing is ever enough. I have faced all kinds of horrors, all kinds of trials. I have been heartbroken, beaten, raped, homeless, penniless, cast adrift and every kind of lost and hurt and broken. I stand in this storm and sometimes it feels like it will never end. This song line resonates with me ‘all these fairy tales are full of shit, one more fucking love song I’ll be sick’. That’s how I feel tonight. Today. For a while now.
I need to start writing again. Not just this blog, but also on my poetry site. I need to finish my short stories. I need to paint my pain. I need to sing and dance again. Because lately I’ve been letting myself stagnate into a pit of misery and inaction. I need to reclaim my self, my soul, my heart.
It’s time to stop paying out the things I can’t afford to give to things and people that do nothing but take.
Debbimouse, over and out.