Lecture, Compare and Ruin
It is so easy for you to compare one to another, with little information or enthusiasm about who or what you are comparing.
There is nothing you can boast because you, with shame know little to nothing.
Me being an artist is nothing on any level that you can comprehend because you choose not to.
The disappointment that seeps out is clear as water and is as thick as oil.
You choose what to be excited about, and my being an artist isn’t one of them.
Tell me what I thrive to be, tell me what I love to do, or tell me where my inspiration derives from.
Do you know I like to drink hot tea over Sade' any day?
What exactly do you know about someone you've know all of my twenty-three years?!
There is nothing for me to fix in the flesh. I can only pray. When will it change your blind perspectives?
I cannot change your mind if it doesn’t want to be changed.
Only one person exist that I have to prove anything to, and that is I.
One year can be far different than the rest if I choose it to be.
The will power and determination that dwells in me wants to so much explode.
I am my father’s daughter, no matter how you look at, no matter how you thought you raised me. Understand, it is not my fault.
Let me explain the problem that is unfixable.
The problem is, you see a life that is my father’s that I so desire to follow.
So your medicine to my “sickness” is for me to somehow see past the only thing I know and to become in your eyes this perfect obedient little girl.
That will never be, that isn’t me.
Maybe I should apologize for the mistakes I didn’t make, because I don’t know how to make things any better than what they are.
I recall the countless lectures given and me walking away with only one objective, just one.
Objective One and Only: Get out, find my genuine being, live peacefully and love everything.
Hearing much of anything from you is discouraging. You strive so hard for perfection.
Nothing is perfect, it could never be.
A fighter I stand, but I feel sorry that you feel sorry for me, because I am just fine.
I choose not bring myself to your level.
I know where I stand; I know my goal.
Should I go down your path, I crumble to pieces.
Why devote your life to something you will not be content with.
Understand that when you compare and contrast, you push me away.
And I cannot tell if you care the way you say you do.
I pray for a different light to shine out from you, but all I can see is faint.
Your dream for me is not my own but yours that is so easily monitored.
Pride is your thrown, money is your crown, power is your scepter and having the last word is the greed that makes up every last thread in your robe.
I am not your slave, your Ginny pig, your test trial, your trial and error nor your naïve, green child.
I am human just like you. I am the person you raised without having to, but do not let your good deed trick you into thinking you are man of the year.
You must be in so much pain to have the world in your hands and to be so miserable to know everything can go your way or be bought by money.
Nothing material that you could provide could ever make me love you more.
You cannot buy me into a happy life, no matter how hard you try.
Is that what you were hoping to do?
Sit down and rest, because I warn you, I am not made for the mold you created for me to be in.
Clearly our “conversations” if you will doesn’t give aid to our disfigured relationship.
I am who I am. I know my desires and they do not belong to you, displeasing or not.
I am my father’s daughter in whose steps I yearn to follow.
There is nothing you can boast because you, with shame know little to nothing.
Me being an artist is nothing on any level that you can comprehend because you choose not to.
The disappointment that seeps out is clear as water and is as thick as oil.
You choose what to be excited about, and my being an artist isn’t one of them.
Tell me what I thrive to be, tell me what I love to do, or tell me where my inspiration derives from.
Do you know I like to drink hot tea over Sade' any day?
What exactly do you know about someone you've know all of my twenty-three years?!
There is nothing for me to fix in the flesh. I can only pray. When will it change your blind perspectives?
I cannot change your mind if it doesn’t want to be changed.
Only one person exist that I have to prove anything to, and that is I.
One year can be far different than the rest if I choose it to be.
The will power and determination that dwells in me wants to so much explode.
I am my father’s daughter, no matter how you look at, no matter how you thought you raised me. Understand, it is not my fault.
Let me explain the problem that is unfixable.
The problem is, you see a life that is my father’s that I so desire to follow.
So your medicine to my “sickness” is for me to somehow see past the only thing I know and to become in your eyes this perfect obedient little girl.
That will never be, that isn’t me.
Maybe I should apologize for the mistakes I didn’t make, because I don’t know how to make things any better than what they are.
I recall the countless lectures given and me walking away with only one objective, just one.
Objective One and Only: Get out, find my genuine being, live peacefully and love everything.
Hearing much of anything from you is discouraging. You strive so hard for perfection.
Nothing is perfect, it could never be.
A fighter I stand, but I feel sorry that you feel sorry for me, because I am just fine.
I choose not bring myself to your level.
I know where I stand; I know my goal.
Should I go down your path, I crumble to pieces.
Why devote your life to something you will not be content with.
Understand that when you compare and contrast, you push me away.
And I cannot tell if you care the way you say you do.
I pray for a different light to shine out from you, but all I can see is faint.
Your dream for me is not my own but yours that is so easily monitored.
Pride is your thrown, money is your crown, power is your scepter and having the last word is the greed that makes up every last thread in your robe.
I am not your slave, your Ginny pig, your test trial, your trial and error nor your naïve, green child.
I am human just like you. I am the person you raised without having to, but do not let your good deed trick you into thinking you are man of the year.
You must be in so much pain to have the world in your hands and to be so miserable to know everything can go your way or be bought by money.
Nothing material that you could provide could ever make me love you more.
You cannot buy me into a happy life, no matter how hard you try.
Is that what you were hoping to do?
Sit down and rest, because I warn you, I am not made for the mold you created for me to be in.
Clearly our “conversations” if you will doesn’t give aid to our disfigured relationship.
I am who I am. I know my desires and they do not belong to you, displeasing or not.
I am my father’s daughter in whose steps I yearn to follow.
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