Grief is the thing I eat,
I chew till it hurts,
Till everything falls apart.
I write in the dark
After I've turned out the light
When the fan blades are wild
And the crickets come to life
I am my father's daughter,
I am my mother's child.
I wear his body like a sleeve,
Her intellect in my smile.
If my father were standing here today,
Only sorrow would mar his face.
For all that he held on to in life,
His daughter is a disgrace.
Where are you,
Why have you not come,
I spend days in pursuit,
Of those who could be the one.
Another day begins and ends,
The honorable Emptiness presides.
There was a person I once knew
The color in her eyes were blue
I saw her in the mirror for 24 years
Then one day woke up to find
Time turns on her little hands,
Left, right and otherwise.
She turns like clockwork,
More often than not, to my demise.
Anxiety is there, at the stroke of every pen
She sits by degrees on my fat, stubby fingers.
Between my elephantine words she hides,
After every minuscule period she lingers.