sarlowit
A man meant to seem appealing, and instead he worships mirrors. How frequently I lean on the lack like a crutch, to escape from my bad luck. As luck would have the gene split, I wonder what may have been. How silly.
A man I hardly met. I did meet, I did know in myself. Angry.
A father who was angry. A father who grew passive; too passive.
A son who was left in question. A knowledge without. Where did he go, where do I go? How many "he's?"
I saw what the others wanted, and I tried to show them what they needed. I saw what the other's needed, and I bled for that. How much more do they need to see, how much more is there to want. I know this circle of judges witnesses themselves, and in that they live. What more could I want.