Like Father, Like Daughter

His brown body sinks into our brown couch
As he stares lifelessly at our brown walls with his brown eyes


You could say that he has been planted into the dirt 
Slowly forming a bulb with roots sinking beneath the wooden floor


Sustained by our tears and fertilized by our past
Dad pours salt water over his roots, unaware that it will slowly starve him


I plead and beg, carrying nectar in the palms of my hand  to soothe his wounds
Everyone keeps telling me to let him go


To enjoy the present moment and the fruits it has to offer 
Instead of tending to the roots of my father
Chastising me that if I don't I will end up rotting like my father 

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