Her hands were painted red, Her face bore peace. Now she could fly high, for her only tormentor was gone. The years of pain, now behind her. She carefully lifted his body, to give him a final funeral. Not cause he was her father, but to see him vanish forever!
It was not a bad timing Nor was it fate; I woke up to a new day, A new bed An unaccustomed morning, Minus your presence. It was a choice. I chose, you let me. #choice
She rubbed her eraser hard, trying to erase the lines. But, the creases remained, for it had been deeply inscribed. No matter how hard she tried, the faint yet vivid memories, were to haunt her foreve