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The Father of My Thoughts Did Not Recognize Me
When I was born,
there was no one to hold my mind.
Only a faded sky and a mother
trembling above a forgotten prayer.
My thought was born fatherless.
And I raised it alone,
with hands dirty from paramedics and alphabet.
I wrote before I spoke.
I spoke before I was heard.
And still I search
in all the words I never dared to write.
Copyright ©
Florin Lacatus
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