It had been my daily routine
To cry in the bathroom
Without anyone noticing
How exactly broken I am.
I went out, beads of sweat
Forming at the sides of my head
I was the youngest in the family
With sixteen years as my age.
So, who is this little girl
Waiting for me outside?
She couldn't be my dad's
Other child, right?
She seems familiar, though...
"I never thought you're going
To be that sad and dark. Please
Come find me again," she said
Vanishing into thin air.
It was me, only ten years younger
The young, innocent, and happy me
That I lost through the years.
🌹🌹🌹
The poems I have published are inspired with the new trendy hashtag on tweeter, the #ManilaEncounters
YOU ARE READING
Pastel Yellow
PoesiaI'm not so sure How are you able to see Through those thick-rimmed Glasses of yours To think that someone like Is pretty enough To be yours. What have I done For the Great King to Give me the most precious Reward I could ever acquire. ...
