there is none, my mind is totally blank
like a school blackboard, zero, zilch
boom nothing...
I store my memories in the rooms of my mind
there is a room for each, happiness, love and joy
even a room for sadness, and that's a fact
sometimes, I go into a special room in my mind
to search for my father, the man who took his life
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
in hopes there will be something there for me
a memory of a face, a voice, or anything at all
even the way he held me, I feel would suffice
but every single time I go, I fail to find any thing
in a room where I should have lots of memories
memories like other people are blessed to have
memories of a father being there to protect me
a father being there to provide and care for me
a father being there to love me, and hold me
I find when I go into this room, there is nothing
there is no memories, I have a room in my mind
a room so dark, a most lonely and empty place
I never ever visited there when I was a child
suppose I thought having a stepfather was okay
suppose I thought it was normal, actually no
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem