Dear Fool

Father, do you see our curse?
The role of family we are forced to rehearse.
Silence slices like knives and hate grows in waves,
Eyes full of malice digging my grave.

Mother, do you hate me so,
The child who from within you felt grow?
Watching with eyes so hollow yet always cold,
If I were better would a different tale be told?

Fool, you must see you will never win,
Their hatred has tainted you leeched under your skin.
Try as you might you will never be free,
Of the silence, the anger, the domestic debris.

Father, were you trapped by the image upon the scan,
The demon, the child never part of your plan,
Or was I the son you wanted when the timing was right,
Who grew into a failure you forced from your sight?

Mother, did you choose me or was I a mistake,
A problem, a burden you were forced to take?
If you had wanted me would you have loved me then,
Treated me like a son instead of an animal within a pen?

Dear Fool, will you never grasp,
That love is something from them you will never clasp?
Will you hold onto these ideals all time,
A thankful prisoner of this deadly pantomime?