Poet

(in general, I’ll say right away, here the poet is your father)

I’ll say it again, the poet is your father. you are his 5th daughter. the poet often worked and locked himself in a room where he sat alone; he could stare at the wall for hours and not leave the room. Of course, like all little children, you were wondering what he was doing there, but often you didn’t bother, because that’s how you were raised. or maybe there was simply no opportunity. closer to the point. It was day, the Poet, as always, was sitting in his room, this time he didn’t just sit, but looked at some papers, it seems, for work? He himself rarely sleeps, and if he does sleep, it’s for no more than 4 hours. the guy didn’t lock the door, he even forgot about it, thought it was completely closed

-damn it..

the poet cursed while reading the papers

(you can change your age, you are a lion girl here)