My blood is ancient.

Set loose by slits and cuts.

Generations pump thru my veins.

The hurt flows downwards

Far too much.

I cannot release enough

To keep my me in touch

With reality enough.

The heart hangs loosely

By threads too sensitive

To human touch.
My genes have cursed me.

The devil spills down his seed

Through generations.

I am broken enough by my father

To never belong in this generation.


I’m posessed

And I’ll be tossed away

For the hateful words rubbed off on you

Brought by my preordained inevitable

 existential pain.


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