Look

Look at your daughter, you created her.
Without your wife knowing but she ended up thinking it was an amazing surprise.
Something that helped her get away from you, because of what you did to your wife and your “miracle”.

Look at them. Now look at what it used to be. Look at what it is now. And look at what you can’t see. What apparently you couldn’t see. What you “didn’t” realize you were doing.

Look at your wife that is twenty years younger then you. You’re both older now so it’s alright.
Look at what your father did, look at how it ruined you. Look at how you’re ruining your family.

Watch them leave. Listen to your words.
But you can’t watch them leave, they didn’t let you see that.
Look at all the clothes they were “donating”. Look at those clothes be stored at a friend’s house for when they could unpack them at a new house away from yours.

Watch your wife find herself, watch her break out of what you molded her to be. Look at her block your hit, notice that she didn’t flinch. But look at what I said, she flinched. At you.

Look, your daughter flinches at any hand she thinks could be coming her way.

Look you ruined it.
You chose to do your actions. You chose to do everything you did. You chose the alcohol that you chugged while on the phone with your friend that’s in the city, look at how much you did that. And you chose the drugs, that your daughter found.

Look at your baby girl grow up, look at how wounded she still is. Look at how hard she tries to hide her pain. Because she always had to hide that from you.

Watch your daughter become a child again when a man yells at her. Watch her cower and think that she’s back in the same position of what you put her in. Watch her mind be reminded of what you said and did, every time.

Watch her slowly forget what you did because I guess it “was not that bad”, watch her believe your excuses. Watch her think it actually wasn’t that bad.

Watch your wife become a stranger.
Watch your daughter grow more and more dislike towards you. Look at how many therapist appointments they went to.

Look at your daughter’s face when she hears that she and her mother never have to go back to your home.

Look at your daughter sob to what she just wrote.

Look at what you could’ve fucking had.