The Wanderer
Nostalgic cries echo through space and time
To heed the reader of effigies in my past.
These deep scores inflicted with the edge of realization
Fill with the sour bile that is your abandonment.
Desired tenderness held back by fear of rejection.
Unattained promises forgotten as if unimportant.
Obliged respect strengthen only by my own frailty.
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Without looking back, you turned towards the sunset,
Belittled by my grudges, weakened-- in deep regret.
You walked for days on end, always trying to forget,
Passing from town to town; they only say your silhouette.
You trailed off the maps, wanting to alleviate your mind,
But the guilt was to heavy-- you couldn’t leave it all behind.
One day I saw a familiar figure, walking as if blind.
The steps: one after one, laid circled and entwined.
In an instant, our eyes were locked in sight,
In your gaze, I could see some credence but no glimmer of delight.
Your lips quivered, affected by the miasma of that night,
You softly said, “Forget this man. Don't call him father tonight,
or acknowledge his heavy plight, He hasn't earned the right."
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