My Father

Mar 19, 2023

1 min read

By Nabiha Aijaz

Anger is a house my father built inside his heart

A mere lurking fear of being forgotten,

It haunts and haunts and eats him up

My father is a child a small, scared child

A weak and trembling one,

My father is an unnamed colour

Something that looks like loneliness.

By Nabiha Aijaz

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