Though your being has always been,
I've never felt involving in
Attention: yours to mine, I had.
In close we're far. I wish you, dad.
...Your heart is cursed from beat the first
And till the corpse we'll be morose
By your disease: your blindness, deaf.
By ego's growth. I wish you dead.
Though you're still here, it's pain to hear
Your sounds... in depths you're somewhere near.
Affection, hope, they are in head.
My love's in hate. I'm wishing yet.
16.04.2017