To an Unloving Father

I think the title says it all.

Cigarette ashes burn away,
Like a million starry skies,
While my soul is eaten away,
by your empty promises.

Are you proud of me yet, Dad?
Can I be called daughter, not freak,
Will I be as good as the other one,
When I'm finally like you?

Sixteen years have gone by,
You're still the cold man I call my father,
I've strived for your compliments,
but weep with your deafening criticisms.

How I long for you to forgive me,
for you to comfort me when I'm down,
for you to tell me that you love me the way I am,
just like a father should...