It was me who poisoned myself, setting hope so high to those people I called family. Blinded with my naive eyes. It was too late for me to realize that I was homeless ever since I was born. I decorated them with love, care and respect but they didn't do the same thing. It was even worsen when the table turn, because I am left alone. I have nothing but myself.
They walk away, and they become a stranger to me as I grow older. The family I knew was just an illusion, nothing but a fabricated structure my father build for the sake of his name. I regret having so much confidence that they would decorate me the same thing. I regret because I had nothing in return even just a portion of what I had give them.
