If I could write a story It would be the greatest ever told I'd write about the man who bore me For I doubt he had a heart My ink wouldn't be enough to pen down
The lines of my poem would go beyond My dad, he was no hero We never wanted him to be one either I tried understanding the colors on him But the more I tried; the more I realized they were in vogue
I'd write a letter to him instead;
The lessons we weren't thought by him That family was everything That we were his flesh and blood To always be there for your loved ones
Oh!! Sorry, my bad; I doubt he knows what that even means
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Dear Father,
Lots of unsaid words I have for you
Lots of heartbreaks gotten from waiting
Lots of unanswered questions; but in the end, will the answers quench my thirst
Many times I wondered. I hoped. I waited. I thought; then I stopped thinking
But this is how far my pen can go
They said;
Loving someone requires feelings
Hating someone requires feelings
But, when I look at you, I feel nothing
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As a child, I believed the colors on my dad were faint, until I grew up and learnt that they were no longer in "VOGUE"
