an old drawing
'' Each day, I see your suffering and pain through your eyes. The suffering of waiting, waiting to be back once again to your beloved country. The pain of his confusion. Each day, planes, helicopters and birds past our windows. And I see the way you talk about how that plane was actually for us. Or how that bird is so lucky to have wings to fly. Each day, I see the way you draw on your desks. Drawings of rooftops and your house. Sketches of a him and a her with happy bubble talk. Illustrations of your past. The picturesque of your home town sceneries. I’ve seen them all. They are amazing, one day I’d hope to visit that place. Baby, I’m sorry for all your troubles. You’ll be back soon, trust me you will. You are so lucky, more than you will ever know. You get to return to a place where you can safely call home.
We are in the same position; always seem to be in sync. You're not alone, dear. Its like a strong naphthalene bond we share. Baby, you can be like white concrete wall which I can lean on. Everybody makes mistakes, and I hope that fly on the wall wasn’t really you know who, listening to us. If only someone listened to our conversation, how confuzzled they would be? Beyond imagination. And also, our imagination exceed over the limit, but I very much doubt it that imagination has a limitation, if it did, we had probably crossed it. With the talks of ovum splatter on the white concrete pillars of the school, the clouds sessions, the sAtay away from her and the tuition lessons and also the katai perrai and her ‘I’ll never be the same’ and the correct shoulders movements with the male model of the year. ''
She always has the right words to say, to get rid of the grey clouds that have been hanging above my head lately, to take back all my laughters that have been stolen and to make everything simpler.
. Thank You <3 .
No comments:
Post a Comment