I yearn to know him, so I can Know myself. I want to know why he left. Why he never came to see me. I wonder if he even thought about me, about the new being he helped bring into this world. How can someone just leave part of themselves behind without a thought? A part of them that was molded into the most innocent of beings. I ponder over reason why he would have wanted nothing to do with me. And so I cry at the thought of ever having to confront him. Not knowing my father growing up was a challenge for me; because, it felt like the key to understanding the map of me was missing.
Creeping into the room of a child fast asleep, to the melody of a mothers lullaby, to sneak a picture that will one day be a treasured memory. She lay there with her silky brown hair fanned around her head, with a pacifier which probably tasted of rubber locked tight between her lips. The only scent lingering in the room is the sweet smell of lavender and baby powder.
As the tears start to fall once again I am left alone being swallowed my own dis-contempt. Without a shoulder insight I fall like the tears through the cracks in the floor boards.
Unsuspectingly the sound of a million angels took me by surprise.
Mind bottling, soul-crushing agony.