Picking at their plate of deceit
In the act of him echoing his notions of what had happened and what was to come
The father’s ametur gesture sank in the photographs of his memory
He’d feared that just as his father was, he had become
A man,
Small in size but large in mouth
He had never failed to let loose his opinions in matters
In matters not necessary of his commentary
But as he,
But as they, sat hurdled like heaps of cattle
Did he and his father
Throw dashing glares
As he that is in him seeked solely to crucify his father
But in his hard effort he failed,
Failed to see that he’d not want to destroy his sperm donor
But find comfort in the arms of a man who hated him
His father was carved by a blind man
Destruction embodied in his arched adamant palm
A moving entity of anguish
And he, himself was incarcerated into a figure of his father
So when the rope rescued his neck
Letting his body sleep into the air
His hands sank
And he stopped carving
I Love this !
Absolute Genius
Exellent 💎
This … one of my Favourates
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