I hate my breakfast!
On this cold morning, I feel motionless like a log
Reacting not to my mourning
The tea tastes bitter. Bread and butter never sweeter
Things will not clear, evidence bound to disappear
No one can notice my scars. What fills the room is smiles
Is breakfast that important?I hate the resonating thought
Of how my daddy broke my pot yesterday night
Bitter sweetly, soothingly and violently
Daddy sprawled into my room wide eyed, to reap the unyielding seed
Is to be caring and loving this painful? Was this my duty to fulfill?
This breakfast reminds me of yesterday night. Daddy is also on the table
This will pass and with it, I have fallen into the churning waters
Mommy loves daddy who cares. She will never notice this. No one cares