my father isn't bad, nor closely to good
we sway on his unforeseeable mood
he is a brilliant, hard-working man
when i was young, i was his #1 fan
he has a great sense of humor
keeps in light amidst of the rumors
among his colleagues, he is sensible
and without doubt, very responsible
yet his daughter speaks but lost in words;
aiming to express in lengthy swords.
sharp yet dull in emotions
contradicting their different notions
and perhaps, i am my father's daughter
only i tend to speak louder
inheriting the rage in his eyes,
with mouth full of flowery lies