Perspective

Dynamic


You gave me wings but rocks on my feet.

I want to inherit your pure heart and creative mind,

But give up your pulse of anger,

For no mercy rests in your hands.

I want to inherit your voice, eyes, and ears,

But give up your absurd values,

that Backfired my growth.

I love you,

But I won't be like you.


Ungrateful child


Your pride scrapes our skins,

Clawing our hearts and vacant spirit. Your greed sips and chokes the pennies buried under our nails,

Planting rocks at our feet.

We cry out and wail...a burden.

A burden we are, creating your wings,

Only ripping our feathers and skins.

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