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The drunkard and his daughter

A constant stream of tears had scarred her youthful face.
Twelve years of suffering hatred from her fathers drunken state.
A mistake she had been, unwanted and unloved.
Untill she finally resided with the seraphs up above
 
He had said “you have ruined our lives”
And so she cut herself with knives.
It all began when she was born, her mother died her father mourned.
He blamed her for his dear wife’s death and hit the bottle of emptiness.
 
He said it numbed the pain inside as he cried by the little girls side
The little girl did not understand why he neglected to hold her tiny hand, absent from every dinner meal, no love was shown, no help to heal.
He shut himself away, from the world he came to loathe, in hope he could die and be with his betrothed.
 
And so the little girl found him, hanging up high, the chair fallen, the noose strung tight.
Now left with nothing, no one, alone. She had no hope, she had no home.
And so she died that same night too, found on the blood splattered floor of the bathroom

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