The Solution

I under colours, suffers
my driving thoughts
all day through.

It grows so immense
that before I know it,
I am lost in open waters.

I asked my father, never short of
absurd and profound truths,
whether I should discard
the horrible eyes of English
as though it were a well-defined illusion

Still I know
had he told me different
I would have cried tears
that could split atoms,
as I clung like a coastal city
onto the edge of my identity.