If I could see my father, he’d be proud.
For all these years I have held tight my tongue.
I have taught myself never to think aloud
It’s a trait I’ve acquired since very young.
I’ve focused considerably on my frame.
I can retain myself from eating.
Hoping one day he’ll see me without shame
I hope it will keep him from retreating.
I think he would be excited to know
That I have found a way to fix my skin
So that the bruises nevermore will show.
And I will unfailingly let him win.
I will refuse to scream or struggle once
When he punishes me for being a dunce.