Sons of Creations

 

Both are sons of creations.

One was given life while the other was slowly taken.

 One loses sleep and constantly weeps

While his good deeds are sewn in to weary foundations,

Like fresh dandelion seeds drifting into the muck of old cotton plantations.

 

This is of man or of monster…

The son of creation inventing his father;

Molding,

Changing, 

Rearranging what was left within him,

Only to reveal a mere image of a mirror image.

 

Who was to blame?

A creator, who turned a humble spark into a lively flame

Became ashamed of his work and disclaimed all recollection of his son

See, he chose a frame of imperfection, 

reached his goal, 

And left the inner child of a monster with no direction

or affection to claim.

Abandoned in an unknown world without the simplest delight of having a name.

Alone.. 

On his own, he began to understand that there is no love. 

Passionate words of hatred spoken and exchanged,

So murder became the needle and revenge a drug.

He was changed.

Rearranged. 

Only to reveal a mere image of a mirror image,

So again I ask, who was to blame?

 

Both are sons of creations; both are one in the same.