When you start bleeding
poetries at 2 a.m without
your mother offering you
a sanitary napkin to hide
the stains ,
paint your lips in red and
stretch them a little more
than usual.
Nine out of ten times she
will not notice the damage!

When you start sailing
poems in the ocean of
melancholy and you know
your father is a harbour
devoid of poetry,
sink deep , die slowly and
accept that you will never
make it to his eyes!

©my_cup_of_poetry