Daddy's Little Girl

http://www.digitalpoet.net/all-poetry.html

She Was Daddy's Little Girl.
It Was Stamped All Over Her Skin
Emanating Over Her Pink Sugar.
She Held An Empty Beer Bottle,
She Had Milked  It To Drench The Voices She Loved,
But Avoided.

Song Moved Her Soul,
And Rhythm Moved Her Hips.
Pom-Poms,
They Were Left Behind Along With Her First Dance,
First Date,
First Love,
Along With Her Virginity,
Left Behind Like A Distant Memory,
Not Forgotten But Considered Rotten.

Her Sororital Veins
Spewed Easy Pickins.
She Was Giving
Every
Green-Eyed, One-Lined,
Bad Joked, Philisophical Bloke
Who Sounded Intelligent,
That Proverbial Game-Time Go.
Daddy's Little Girl Just Didn't Know.

Her Rubber Duckies Still Swam In Her Aura,
But Those Lessons From Momma
Had Drowned In The Tub.

She Wasn't Bad.
But She Was Bad.

She Was Prep School Morals
Under A Leather Coat And Chain,
The Bane Of A Painful Existence,
You'd Never Guess She Grew Up With A Pot To Piss In.

You Had To Look Deeper, Though.
With A Crystalline Exterior She Was An Easy Tell,
If She Sat At My Poker Table I'd Give Her Hell,
Those Scorching Shades,
Sigmas And Phis,
Fluorescent Neon On Walls,
I Bet She Had Glow In The Dark Galaxies On Her Ceiling Growing Up.
She Was Bad.

Her Confidence Sheathed Insecurity,
Swords Of Insight Gleamed,
Fierce,
Yet She Yearned Escape,
It Bled From Her Eyes A Deafening Racket,
This Girl,
This Little Girl
Who Was Daddy's Little Girl,
She Was Bad.
When Daddy Sent Her Away
He Must Have Trembled With Fear Of The Inevitable,
Because He Knew,
Sending Her Away,
He Knew What He Saw.
She Was Radiant.
She Was Art,
She Was Poetry,
She Was Bad.

She Was A Box Fucking Jellyfish,
Beautiful Behind Glass,
But Deadly With Venom And Kills At The Touch,
It Was Such A Rush
To Watch
As Guys Stepped Up To The Plate Only To Swing And Miss,
One After The Other.
She Was Roger Clemens
Throwing Rockets,
Dropping Each Dude Like Pills From Her Pockets,
When The Badges Barged In The Building.
She Had The Foresight,
She Was Bad,
But She Wasn't Just Acting Bad,
She Had Learned.
She Was Smart,
She Was Art,
She Was Poetry,
And She Had Picked How To Slowly See
Her Surroundings A Different Way.
Fuck, I Think She's Me
But With A Va-Jay-Jay,

But This Was Daddy's Little Girl.
Could I Ever Be Any Daddy's Little Man?

http://www.digitalpoet.net/all-poetry.html