Title: Quarter daughter
by Anna from Northern Ireland | in writing, poetry
Daddy's little angel,
At least some of the time.
The apple of his eye,
When time is on his side.
The two bedroom privilege,
Leaves much to be desired
His time you get,
At a push five percent,
His thoughts you get maybe twenty.
From huge dolls houses to designer bags -
All compensation for the love you never had.
The anger and resentment that surfaces from nowhere
For no reason,
Just to make him care.
But alas, what else to expect,
You're just an everyday quarter daughter.
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