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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Family · #1156852
Never yielding to knowledge and will of father in an attempt to become self-reliant man.
These crusted, ancient walls
fence me in.
For eighteen years,
I’ve been held within.

Peering into his well-worn,
scaly eyes,
I’m muddled and lost in
my own foggy lies.

Ducking his persistent words
that humble,
beneath my feeble arguments
I crumble.

Filled with self-indulgence,
I refuse to see,
a world I don’t care for
that cares for me.

Breaking his leash in heated
I fight for my freedom and just

Moistening eyes, I take away
from his,
with contempt for his punishing

My last thoughts weakly dribble
my myopia,
denying entry to his truth, fade
to my utopia.

From that day on, his son was a
closed door.
Father stepped away and doesn’t
come back anymore.

Written over half a lifetime ago. Now my son treats me the same, but different.
© Copyright 2006 Tricky Cat Spooky No One (ripglaedr3 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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