Twas a day after our eighteenth,
sitting i, shaking cobwebs of sleep,
with my thoughts in a ditch so deep.
On my lap sat baskets of promises,
made by mouths, broken by actions.
Discovering my requests were kept from me,
caught by many foolish distractions.
When tragedy struck, we were our parents.
When we fought, it was for each other.
We struggled to feed and pay the house rents,
and that, we did together.
Last time i fell, it was in a pit i dug,
but you threw the banana peel.
You shot arrows of pleadings,
hitting me on my Achilles heel.
Your weepy face turns mirthy,
was left wondering if they were truly real.
We faced each other, separated by hating foes,
i was smiling, although you weren't.
I had shoes on, hiding my pinky toes,
that you pinch'd while we were enwomb'd.
We weren't perfect,
but at least we're not blind.
So at least even if we fall,
we wouldn't fall behind.
As you read this letter, am coming for you,
although you left without a word.
we are sisters, until we are not,
and that's really, really, absurd.
well penned. i like the poem. thank you. We weren't perfect, but at least we're not blind. So at least even if we fall, we wouldn't fall behind. plz read mine
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hey! Thanks Tabish. your kind words are the grease my elbows needs.