Melancholy.

She sat there, reminiscing every memory alive.

One memory, a thousand teardrops.

She remembered his touch, his voice, his eyes, his smile.

And then she looked at the photo, digesting every ounce of anger and hatred and sadness and pain that she felt.

She turned her face away from the photo, only to witness another face.

A face so swollen, so lost and so broke,

A face that showed determination to stay strong, yet failed.

A face she loved to see, and now hated for no reason.

The serenity of white had all gone.

It only reminded her of death.

“What have I done to deserve this?” she screamed silently,

Wanting an answer so desperately that she felt going through a labyrinth was easier.

The sound of his laughter still rang through the house,

A last time perhaps, before leaving the house forever and silencing silence.

I wondered this dark episode in her life.

A contemplation of me in her place.

And I die to even think about it,

What would I do without this one man in my life, my father.

A small tear, with a shattering voice I read. 

//Inspired by all those who have lost their fathers.//