What a dilemma you brought me upto, I can't stare at my stars and you can't become my universe. (Caption...) (Read caption...) You hoodooed me but I can't hate you properly. I'm sorry. I sit by you and dream of you patting my head like you wave your hands on an old diary of yours you kept in the closet. I see you looking at me as if I am a wilting flower on the tree not so dead and you are about to pluck me and furnish the maledictions for me, you seem to imprecate my birth alike the weeds grown in a garden of tulips but you forget the seeds were sown by you. I have sewn your curses with the threads of acceptance on the fabric of my fate. You shine like a neutron star in my galaxy, you give me light by burning me down. They say that sons are more of a mother than his father, but where do I belong? In all the pieces where I couldn't ornament your genes or in the remorse that you didn't see me adorning my heart broken by you.
