“Pseudo Sonnet”

My father’s face is nothing like a pillow;

The moon is smoother than it.

If teeth be white, why then are his yellow?

Sometimes, his breath even reeks of cigar.

I have seen round beautiful eyes,

But why are his so small like a wrinkle?

If breasts are for women,

Why then does he have them?

He has callouses everywhere;

A stone is smoother than it.

His complexion got burned

By the scorching rays of the sun.

The one who brought me up to who I am,

These are just few reasons why he’s like no other.