T- Teardrops

T- Teardrops

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All the emotions-
Bottled inside;
Waiting till there was-
No witness around;
They came down crashing-
an overwhelming tirade;
Only difference from a waterfall-
They made no sound.

And she let it go,
In the stillness of the night;
Her heart was roaring-
As the tear drops slipped down;
Burning her cheeks, soaking the sheet;
Curled up, the teardrops-
Were a relief.
This was a sign-
Her heart still had a beat,
Her heart still could feel.

Oh Father-

Oh Father-

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A story that she never told;
A burden she roamed with for long;
The yells and the screams,
The screeching of boxes,
A little girl- left what was “home”.

A story that she never told;
Of a young man who drunk himself stone cold;
With a little girl the brute that she bore;
Like a tornado, spiraling-
He always came attacking-
Till he passed out exhausted for words.

But oh father, the past is now gone
If I could turn back the time-
I’m not sure I would leave you-
I would try to restore what you had;
But a 12 year old knows only so much,
I’m sorry I let you destroy your life.

A story that she never told;
Was the reason she cried herself to sleep,
Every night till the sound of the crows;
And they thought she was ill-
And prescribed loads of pills-
But she was just reminiscing her home;
At a time it was filled with,
Voices sounding cheery,
And a father- a hero he was.

A story that she never told;
Unravels itself after a decade of running,
As a letter addressed to her from-
A drunkard who’s passed on,
With a letter in hand meant for,
A little girl who long left her home.
On his way to a meeting,
Getting rid of alcoholism,
He met his end- hit by a truck.

A little girl who long left her home
Smiles at the thought of-
her father getting clean-

For the love of the daughter he had;
And though he’s now gone,
To the place up above,
She forgives him and hopes he’s at peace.
The little girl never could let him go.


image credit. This post is in response to Writing201 poetry assignment: write a poem the form of a ballad using anaphora/ epistrophe as a device. This is also a (sort of) part two to a poem I wrote a long time ago, For The love of a daughter.

Save your tears-

Save your tears-

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All my life, I keep hearing-
Save your tears;
For what, for who?
When is it ever worth it,
Will it ever be?
How long do I save it,
Till It all comes spilling?
Every bucket has to fill,
Or are my glands infinite?
How cold should I get,
Before I’m thawed?
Should I Stay frozen,
Till eternity comes?

Save your tears-
They keep screaming;
How long should I save it,
Till I lose my sanity?!

So, I lay down and I weep;
I cry with a little scream;
Now I know it’s not cause I’m weak;
Tears are a sign of strength within;
‘Save your tears’ –
they keep screaming;
Do they know that even-
The sky sometimes weep?