Robert

Little Girl had a father named Robert
He was 6 ft, with dark hair and bright blue eyes
Who always had a bottle in his hand
She never understood why he would cry so much.

She came home from school one day
Candy bars in hand to sell from school
All for a good cause, she liked others like that
But Robert saw a problem with this.

He sat her down on the couch with a bottle in hand
Rant, rant, rant, about how society had wronged him so
He'd smack her on the head when she would try to leave
"Why would you help other people Little Girl when you can't even help me?"

2 hours passed of being held down on the couch by fingernails
The crescent shapes of Robert's nails on her flesh
Matched the rising moon she cried under every night
Little Girl, why were you hurt so?

She never knew why she felt the way she did
Why she was always so sad, and lonely
She thought all fathers were like this
There was never anything wrong with it she thought

Little Girl doesn't like quick gestures still, or yelling, or anger
But she doesn't know where that change happened
What happened to her innocence
Where did Little Girl go?