A bitch was born from their blood. The literature was the fucking lunatic, that day, well aware of the situation so it handled meticulously finding right words at right time just more than enough to pierce the gut of the words being crying itself out for asylum. (Read caption) I never knew you were faking all the way, you would have done that earlier for what you have done now, it would have not turned me into a stone on an island of Nowhere. I tried hard not to think about you or what you did, I always existed in the shore of forgiveness. You did what you did and like a penance, I dumped all my scathed failures in the sea praying to forget what's happened. You called your daughter, a failure. I kept silent for I would cried and said, I am born from you. Just tell me where did I went wrong, I can assure you Father I will go back and make it disappear as if it never happened. If you wanted me to erase the day, when you saw my shadow running away taking my last name with her. That day it was not me, I was left behind and thrown myself into the room of my trapped soul where the cavern of indifferences existed. When I self loathed myself for denying the dark wall existing between my soul and my shadow and like the famished crows, I clawed my face on the road of disappearance and I sheltered under the dark trees so you will never look at my reflection. Though behind the darkness, every night I long for your smile, when you will come and silently put the meal of compromises on the porch and shuts the door of your pride house located in the tunnel of insecurities. And I will eat alone complaining about the trust issues, you garnished over my existence. I think you were right father, I am a failure coz I failed at my own existence. #yqbaba #homelesspoet #lunaticliterature #stillalive #aislesofpoetry
