I could barely remember my daddy’s face.

Even though I’ve tried to imagine his feature in so many ways,

The more I tried the more I failed to see the way he looked, back in the days.

I couldn’t remember exactly when and how

Searching for this guy became my vow

But there’s no way I’m turning back now.

It started when I was in third grade, or was it fourth?

When my teacher assigned the class to make a book report

In what ways mommy and daddy support the family and what are their efforts?

So I started asking every single thing about that man

But anywhere I go it seems that there’s no one around

To tell me anything and even Mommy wouldn’t tell me any detail I want.

“You were only four when that man left us.

He left us with nothing and that’s how bad that man was.

So stop asking questions; anything about him we should not discuss!”

Mommy always told these words to me

That’s how it is every time I ask her about my daddy.

Hating him this much is truly such a mystery.

Where are you now? Where are you hiding, man?

Why did you go? Why did you run?

Don’t you know that you have a daughter and a son?

I swore to myself that wherever you are I will find you

And even though Mommy didn’t give me any clue

I will do it my way; I will make it through.