The hands hold ma little fingers were not with affection,
But the shivering client of alcohol, ma dad,
I still have the marks of canes on ma thighs,
Which I received while ma tiny foots were geared up to amble,
They were carved not on ma thighs,
But ma heart of innocence,
The meanings of ma life were shuffeled by him, ma dad!
Life….is this vot whole of it meant?
It was the tears of ma mom I sucked for ma life…
And it was her cold dead motionless body
Ma father gifted me on ma third birthday,
While I hugged ma mom’s dead body for the last time with tears,
I was speechless and ma dad was still in the unconscious alcoholic world…