Dazed Off

Here it ends but somewhere it starts again

For the boy who is the spitting image of his father,
the very epitome of every unheard disciplines—
every un-screamed head bangs,
and belt slams.

How are you?
you've been keeping up the legacy,
legacy of the unawakened—
of the never weakened.

You've continued what you're father's father started (or passed into)
I'm sure they're proud of you…
as long as you stay strongest.

So how are you feeling now?
the boy is now spitting sad soups,
images of blood kept coming out of your mouth.

carry emits of very loud aches,
screams of pain…
because old age gets you,
just karma in disguise.

You've gotten weak,
something you avoided for decades—
something you worked hard not to be
Starving day and night to prove them all
you're never vulnerable,
never someone to mess with.

I'm sure you feel like shit
but is it bad, that I feel proud of you?
please do,
be the person you deny—
the people you call gay,
and hate will all your might.

Be one with the voices,
at least you're never alone.

Let's share this birthday,
the ending passion of you and me,
mad man
and the starting season of well— just me, little girl

Journey of sleek beasts and silly tea parties,
embrace sorrow for a new tommorow.