There are fragments of my faulty presence that I wish could be forgiven for
As much as there are obsolete memories,
altering theirselves into agonising keepsakes

The trails I have been trying to erase
The past that I thought I've left on the rearview
The hurting
The fear
The abuse

I have been waking up in the morning
Pretending to forget that these throbbing occurrences are all that I am made of
This is not discontent
This is wound

I remember voices
The voices I've known all too well
I was so little
Accustomed to the sound of TV outside my room

A year or so
The TV was never on anymore
And so dinner was no longer served
And Mother was no longer sleeping
And Father was no longer home

Growing up
I've come to realised that things
Just like persons,
They were also able to grow apart

There was the night which remained the longest
The bed have never felt any bigger
And Lord,
Have I ever felt any lesser

It was three a.m.
I called out
Reaching for Mother
Even I remembered how I sounded

"Where are you?"
There was a split second of the most exhausting silence
Until I heard her distraught voice on the other line
"I am looking for my husband."

That night have changed any other nights
And I have been living with the constant pain
Of having felt that you lost something great
When you never actually had it

I had my years of continual dejections
Until now,
I am still learning on how I should stop feeling like I am in pieces
I don't need anyone
Trying to remind me why I am this way