We are the gaps our fathers made,
In the madness and strife we failed to take.
A foil, a puzzle piece, whatever they are not.
Yet linked so close, an immortal knot.
It's fun to think of what could've been.
But if I was not, then I would be him.
And maybe so I cannot escape,
This blood that runs in my veins.
But blood and body is like a ship,
Replaced brick by brick, until none more fit.
And yet it stands, that fleeting shadow,
That what they called my father.
YOU ARE READING
Often confusing
PoesieSecond part to a muses musings because wattpad has a story limit. . . I mean an enthralling book of stories
