Mummy/Daddy

Dear good sir.
Like prose and poetry, with
words that ryhme on the hidden
chalkboard, i come to you again my good
sir. This time, a mindless riddle, in
the lines of the marskman bow, like
an arrow that struck my heart, i
would need guidance good sir,
mostly guidance from your
faithful hands.
Sir.

Remember.
Good sir. Remember how we all,
came to this world? Through the peak of
perfection, that was reached through the
infamous mathematical error. One
plus one equals one my dear good sir.
Dont sweat it, sir, dont sweat it, if
you cant remember. In truth, we
all couldnt recall, recreate, recollect the
many memories, niches and silent nods that
we had when we first was born into this
world. But undoubtedly,
good sir.
You would remember your parents right?

Like gentle wind that blows across
huge plain landscapes, shaping
them to the irregularity that they
so desire.
Like roaring waves, crashing into
large rocks so young and naive, crafting
jewels of Earths that walk
free on this earth.
Yet, like painkillers, the slow
relief that sinks into your body, yet
releases an aftereffect shock that
you will never forget.
Yet, like poor painters, with
a missing colour, the artwork created may
be bold or absurb.
Yet, above all, good sir.
Like silence.
Insidious in their ways, yet
mindfully powerful in execution.
Mind blowing. Isnt it
Good sir?

(to be continued)