I am my father’s daughter
There is no doubt
When I bite my fingers
And scratch my head
When I lose my way
In my own home town
When I arrive an hour early
Just to be sure
When I refuse to cry
Or tell you how I feel
But I am my father’s daughter
Indeed, it’s quite true
When I smile through the sadness
That threatens to take me
When I say “I’m fine”
To spare you the trouble
When I forge on through the darkness
Facing my deep-rooted fear of the unknown
When I let each small victory
Grant me the strength to continue
When I scream “no” to those thoughts
That whisper “they’ll be better off”
Yes. I am my father’s daughter.
And I think, that’s quite possibly the best thing I could be