POV: a broken chair. Just a bit off balance, to be fair.
The father, he tripped over this once
When he tried to grab his son
From over, when conversation turned to sour from fun
POV: the sunglasses. Of a mother hiding the face of her phases.
Well, it was always someone's fault in the darkness of it all.
But maybe, it was the tint of the sunglasses et al.
POV: the walls that divide. Family with scars open and wide.
He would walk in to find no one in sight
And yet, overhear ones on the other side
More or less in a fight
Not on right or wrong, but why he isn't right
POV: the Thanksgiving turkey. No, the scene isn't murky
1, two, three and 4, holding hands and saying grace
Hanging on to this embrace
Of very temporary solace
But it's real nonetheless
Although there's a call for brace
POV: the hidden apologies. Underneath layers of paint on crease
Maybe sorry was step one
And now it's 97 past a ton
None forgiving of the stabs
As turmoil was as normal as the scorching sun
POV: the creaking gate opposite the neighbour's estate
Welcome to the world of distaste
Where I am trapped with people I love
Who each other, have reasons to hate
POV: you’re a broken chair. Only a balancing issue, to be fair.
The father, he tripped tripped over this once
When he tried to grab his son
From over, when conversation turned to sour from fun
POV: through the sunglasses. Of a mother hiding the face of her phases.
Well, it was always someone's fault in the darkness of it all.
But maybe, it was the tint of the sunglasses et al.
POV: of the walls that divide. Family with scars open and wide.
He would walk in to find no one in sight
And yet, overhear ones on the other side
More or less in a fight
Not on right or wrong, but why he isn't right
POV: there’s the Thanksgiving turkey. No, the scene isn't murky
1, two, three and 4, holding hands and saying grace
Hanging on to this embrace
Of very temporary solace
But it's real nonetheless
Although there's a call for brace
POV: the hidden apologies. Underneath layers of paint on crease
Maybe sorry was step one
And now it's 97 past a ton
None forgiving of the stabs
As turmoil was as normal as the scorching sun
POV: you’re the creaking gate opposite the neighbour's estate
Welcome to the world of distaste
Where I am trapped with people I love
Who each other, have reasons to hate
- Sneha Devraj
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