When I was created-
In the image of my father,
Since he, too, was fated,
The image of his father.
When he left me behind,
And I was forced to act as such.
Was Satan too left blind,
To his holy father’s touch?
And as my own son grows,
Starving at love's empty altars.
His time runs thin, he knows,
His father’s love soon falters.
He'll leave his own domain,
As I, too, have abandoned mine,
And must I be to blame?
A familial curse in twine.
How a son’s tears might have dried,
Had his father's arms been open wide.
Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 3:14 PM UTC
When I was created-
In the image of my father,
Since he, too, was fated,
The image of his father.
When he left me behind,
And I was forced to act as such.
Was Satan too left blind,
To his holy father’s touch?
And as my own son grows,
Starving at love's empty altars.
His time runs thin, he knows,
His father’s love soon falters.
He'll leave his own domain,
As I, too, have abandoned mine,
And must I be to blame?
A familial curse in twine.
How a son’s tears might have dried,
Had his father's arms been open wide.
Hi everyone, I hope you enjoy this poem.
