This poem hurts. At least, it hurts me. It is real and raw. It is right and wrong. The relationship between parents and offspring is a strange thing. When dealing with irrational animals, it is odd, and with humans, this oddness only increases dramatically. Creators and created, a very strange relationship.
When you look into the eyes of those who made you,
the man and the woman who made you you,
and instead of gratitude, you feel nothing at all,
like a white page, black everything, a long empty hall.
Am I to blame? Or is there blame?
it is what it is or
I am what I shouldn’t,
how to fix what is broken when
what is broken won’t be fixed?
A stumble, a trip, a drop in the deep,
here to the sea I come to feel,
an anchorless ship, sails set, broken keel,
to exhaust my agonies, to see and to heal.