The painting that I once had in my living room,
Was now broken into the tiniest colorful pieces
By the woman on the wheelchair who called herself
The walls are like a sea,
Colorless and full of pale faces.
I wanted to visit my house again,
To be able to look at my broken painting.
The gift that was given by my father.
I wanted to re-live those thrilled moments,
Where all I saw was happy faces.
I wanted to be written in the book of memories,
Like every day was meaningful
Until I remembered the same painting.