the man whom i wanted to silence.
the man whom made me hate.
the man whom i thought was prejudice against me.
the man whom was selfless.
the man whom shared.
the man whom i looked up to.
these are his hands.
the hands that drew.
the hands that taught.
the hands that wrote criticism but we were never disheartened.
the hands that he would use every thursday to bring cake to his platter.
the hands that looked fatigued but never was and never will be.
this is him. ever so encouraging.
"Thank you, Phil." was i told him, shaking him by his hands.
"And thank you for the entire semester of hardwork, HY." he replied.
("Thank you...again" as i thought to myself.)
