Note to the boy sitting on a grave There are times when darkness becomes too heavy, & what do we do when the night outweighs us? We trade our bodies for some beams of light, & watch our soul shed off some shades of grief. I was ten when I knew how people die: They become stiff, like songs without hook; Cold, like a temple in the heart of Sodom; & heavy, like the weight of colourless dreams- But boy, you knew the names of death Before you knew your own name, You saw a grave before your own cradle, You tasted tears before you tasted water, You grew up with dirge remixed into lullaby, & roses, to you, are only grown for funerals. Your mother traded her life for yours, & this is why your father stared at you for long. He’d always see two persons in one, then hope That one day you grow into a poet, Somewhere sitting on a grave & write a full length poetry book In memory of your gold.
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