Poetry
My Living Dead Father
“Every time I see my father I see Hell as a human.” My body is a room. I hanged my father’s portrait On the
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“Every time I see my father I see Hell as a human.” My body is a room. I hanged my father’s portrait On the
The beautiful melody of silence Keeps me occupied When alone Enjoying solitude! The melodious silence Speaks volumes Of meaningful and meaningless ideas Passes mind
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