Bad blood
running through bad veins
bad stock-
selective breeding at it's finest here,
creating god knows what
from the mixing pot
of violence and victim.
I dread to grow up
to see,
once my bad blood
takes effect,
what kind of monster I'll turn out to be.
It's nature vs nurture
kind smiled hiding ruined genes
but you can't grow a daisy
from a venus flytrap seed.
What kind of family monster
will my nieces learn I am,
bitter, controlling, lying, mad?
Every year I sat at the table,
not knowing the wicked son I read about
was my pre-destiny.
- Author: distorted mikey ( Offline)
- Published: May 10th, 2022 14:15
- Category: Family
- Views: 19
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.