The Ungrateful Child

I was in a homeless shelter.
I called my daughter.
The daughter I had raised.
The daughter I had sent to school, paid school fees, bought clothes and everything for.
The child I carried with me each weekend and whenever I was invited anywhere.
The child whose childhood was made up of 'me and mama' because her father was too busy with various females to pay her much mind.

Yet, the child who worshiped her worthless father.

Something happened to me.
And I needed help
I called her.
For the first and only time in my life I asked her for help.

But she refused to help me.
Living in a large home with her husband and child with money to travel she decided it wasn't convenient.

Ten months later she can import her worthless father to her home and plan on supporting him for the rest of his life.

I find out via a mutual friend that he's 'gone up' to visit 'his daughter'. Neither he, whom I saw last week nor my daughter whom I communicated with on Skype told me.
I find out via an outsider.
And how am I to feel?
I decide to feel nothing.
To betray no knowledge of this.

I should have never had children.