Eccentricity

I inherited my eccentricity from my father amongst all the other things but sometimes I wish I hadn't so I do not feel it in my bones when my sorrow sings Sometimes I wish I did not pen down All this sadness in my heart and I did not read poetry written by lonely souls in bits and parts I wish I could stop treating my palms like they were only a way to pen down what I feel what I cannot speak, what I cannot say On the day I sat down with my mother and tore all the photos of her delusional joy all the reminders of the burden she bore As she sipped her wine and told me she made a mistake or two but she was not sorry I stopped feeling sorry too I did not mind words pouring through my veins dripping from my palms I did not regard my sorrow as a burden I started considering it sacred and holy and calm I learnt to love the parts of myself That felt very distant, very far That did not laugh when I laughed That taught me what tears are I inherited my eccentricity from my father amongst all the other things and I could not be happier about it I love it when my sorrow sings