• for_the_love_of_lore 5w

    I saw his eyes red, I was scared for two reasons. Smoking kills. I realised later that it is only a popular one out of those hundred reasons of death. The second reason I didn't tell was that he looked like my father. He was not him. I hated my mother but I was her. But history repeats itself, pain needs addressal. As if the history of pain is the most oppressed one. As if pain needs one companion.