Deep breaths.

Inhale. Mouth closed.

Exhale. Mouth open. 

I count the number of random strangers around me

who were having a peaceful time without knowing me

or my anger management issues.

A hand, firm and strong, comes up on my shoulder.

I try smiling at him,

my father, supporter of everything I do,

there’s no reason for me to be angry at him.

But I know the smile comes off as grim,

as I see myself in him,

In his eyes, as reflection.

In the smiles we share.

In the hard, determined set of jaw

and the same pink ears.

His hand is all I need

Instead of a bucket of ice cold water.

I’m attempting the set of prompts, Rebirth in April, together with Parvathi. Check out her poems!

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