I used to race to the front door when I'd hear you come home,
I would greet you excitedly with a hug and a smile
I was daddy's little girl, it didn't take much to make you proud -
Nor did it take much to make you angry and hostile.
As I grew older it was much more of a challenge,
Making you proud and appeasing you were a definition combined.
I appeased you one moment, then suddenly disappointed,
And proud again the next moment in your shifty state of mind.
Unpredictably temperamental and distant you became,
Tensions growing stronger between us year after year.
Always intimidated, yet ever-longing to make you proud,
I remember when that need to please became motivated by fear.
Where once the motivation was a rewarding "good girl!",
Time and alcohol transformed the father I once knew.
Rarely the recognition for simply doing my best now,
It seems you are disappointed no matter what I do.
I was daddy's little girl, what happened to that?
Nowadays the best we seem to be able to muster
Are attitudes towards each other that are somewhat civil,
And, if I may add, just barely cutting the mustard.
I'm done wondering what I can do to make you proud,
I'm no longer a child - I'm my own woman now
I have a need to live for me, follow my heart, my dreams,
Sort things out for myself, despite not yet knowing how.
I'm in love with an amazing man of whom you seem to disapprove,
I want to be with him forever - oh how I'd love to have your blessing,
But I don't need your approval in order to be happy,
And as nice as that would be, I seem to be digressing -
I just wish the daddy I once had could come out for just a second,
To tell me he still loves me, and that my efforts weren't in vain.
To tell me he is proud of me, and will be no matter what,
Because he loves his little girl, and that's the way it will remain.
Sadly that fantasy of mine will never materialize to reality,
We've grown far too much apart - our stubborn natures much the same.
We each find fault in each other and deny the fault the other found,
Until one of us admits defeat, blame becomes our game.