Father's Daughter

My toururer became my remedy

I took her brittle bones
Floating in the air,
I took my withered hair
Dyed like ripened cherries,
I took her tender marks
She had drawn out on her arms
as a child,
I took her ancient clothes
Worn out and withered ,
I took her unwashed body
A promise that kept her bloody,
Then I let go.
I took her relentless need
That she had in fact, burdened on me,
I took her quivering corner,
One which now I step out of,

And I made myself a home.