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The future is yours. Don’t let them take that from you as well! Tomorrow is the day you claim back what it’s meant for you!

a poem by: me

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. this is taking time, so i am giving iT /Li

I’m still trying to talk to you through unsent letters and desperate poetry - Blake Auden

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"Papa tells me what you see," I remember asking him one day. "Let's see, there's sun up in the blue sky, few clouds around it. People walking, some busy, some lazy. Trees green. Birds." "Birds color?" I interrupt him. "Pink," Papa whispers close to my ear. "Yes," I yell out. It's was a typical Sunday morning and our usual ritual is to watch the neighborhood through our window. "What else?" I asked looking straight. "There's our landlord outside fighting with a vegetable seller for a carrot," Papa said making a funny noise. "What color are carrots Papa?" "White," Papa stammers a lot in between, it's because of the age he says. We laugh it out. Papa bought me Around the world in eighty days braille book for me on my last birthday. I had already read it more than fifty times. My teacher Jacob taught me how to read and write. He was a good man, he treated me special. "Even though you are blind. You are a special child." He said one day. Papa punched him in the face. He never came back. At night I try to teach papa how to read but he never gets it right. When I was ten. Papa bought me my favorite Jane Austen book. It must have cost a fortune. It's nothing he said. Papa always worked hard. I once asked why he uses a stick like mine he said it helps him to walk. It wasn't until he passed away and I was shifted to special adult care that I learned that Papa was blind and autistic. "He was an incomplete man. I wonder how they let him adopt you." one of the caretakers say. "That too in that little house." another one adds. Tears well up, my mouth dries, I wanted to scream at them but I didn't. That night holding the only photo of papa close to my chest I whisper " Even if you were blind you showed me colors in the only way you knew papa. Maybe you were incomplete but your love never was. It was pure, just like you." As I cried that night, the sky being too generous wept with me.

♠️ Irony of society today, hard to believe in. Fake people come with different weapons, some come with lying mouths (fake promises) others come with fake masks (disguised appearance) // 21.06.2019 // . . . . . . . #acenotion

You and I were just building sand castles. We knew the sea would take them eventually - Blake Auden