a reluctant daughter

dear father,

i ask you to make some sort of resounding laughter
to the face of the foolish daughter that stands before you
it can come in the form of rain
or it can even come in the form of anger
just make sure that whichever way it comes
it leaves me hurting and miserable and painful
so that i will remember
never to do those things again
i ask you
when will this all end
i know it must be soon
because i am running out of stubborn pride
i abuse the grace you've given me
i slowly loose it's grip
and try to push a little further than i should
i have a heavy bag of excuses
for all the wrongs that are happening right now
but secretly i blame myself
i believe i am right in doing so
no one else can take responsibility for the choices i've made
but i ask you father
how much more of this should i take
between myself and the world
i am beaten to a pulp
there is hardly anything left of me
i don't even know what i'm here for
so if you could just laugh or smile
or slap or whip
so that the sensation would remind me
of who you are
than maybe i could find some way
to see the sun again