Wrong Turn Love

If something is wrecked in ruins

You are instructed to gag them on trash can

Yet I picked him up and zipped on a warm pocket

He turned out like his father- hot and cold lad

He didn’t shave, grew up his beard

The closer resemblance when I looked in his eyes

Crooked and slanted

Will he come across the fortune of his dad?

He asked me how I baked a homemade cookie for his dad

I never did, we didn’t raise a microwave together

I didn’t dare to tell him that his dad left one of his shoes

And the other ones-most probably in the same ruins

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