Dear Daughter.

Hello daughter?

It’s obvious that you’ll be a grown-up woman,

And a lot of people among them men, will start questioning you.

 

If they come asking of whom I were,

Probably when I’m already gone.

Hush them down and;

Tell them that I was a self-generated

Man.

A fictitious character whom spoke truthfully,

With a natural bent for writing.

 

Tell them I’m written in the history I created myself.

That I’m copyrighted in my own poems, and they should look up for me.

 

Tell the hungry men that, there’s so many miles between our souls, but I still love you with my eighteen english beer gallons, and our hearts are still too intertwined together.

 

Tell them that they shouldn’t think of taking advantage of you, because I’m a soulless soul still standing guard at your doorstep, just like the old times.

 

Tell them I wasn’t a mad man, I was just a man lost inside his head, that’s why I was off the chains.

 

Tell them that, I’m sorry I didn’t do what they asked me to, I had a problem in being told what to do, because I was a self-generated man.

 

Tell them that, I’m sorry I didn’t heard what they told me, I had a problem in being told what to do, because I was already a fictitious character with a problem in distinguishing truth and deceit.

 

Tell them that, I’m sorry I didn’t accepted to be included in their books of history, I had a problem in being an additional item and a representation, because I was already creating my own infamous history.

 

At the end of the recount, sit them down, be hospitable enough and serve them some soul-ale.

And inform them that I’m not a tale but your only lovely Dad.

 

(c) Swahiba 2017.

 

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