Life moves fast, life moves
very rapidly.
when I ask my father what to do with my hands,
he repeats back to me the story of my mistakes,
in which nothing gets done.
He tells me that my habit of staying inside on sunny days,
is a hereditary flaw,
and I copy his movements and gestures.
I take to sleeping for entire days,
I eat like a prince,
even my eyes encourage feasting.
I mistakenly call the sky by your name,
and it sounds beautiful on my tongue.