The poetry of a sad muse

I definitely my father's daughter

I'm my father's daughter,
we are sweet for the little moments.
But act mean when we feel threatened
Always ready for an attack.
The walls are so high we can't see each other.
So blinded by our stubbornness and crass dialect.
We don't need people, we need everyone and then some.
We never ask for help.
Just let our Demons eat us alive
Bursting at the seems
Growing despondent with ourselves
Feeling the world is not worthy of us, and us not being worthy of the world.
My dad said that beauty is pain,
But when does the pain become beauty?
We let ourselves go until we have to be responsible again.
Our problems are not as big as others so we keep the trauma close like a mother holding there newborn
The honesty is discharged with overprescribed sarcasm.
Biting your tongue to stop the war of your words.
People say we don't need another Michael.
But here I am, a blonde-haired, green-eyed, stubborn, sarcastic, feminine muse.
So you better thank god when meeting me because it's going to be one hell of a ride
I'm definitely my father's daughter