How much pressure before it breaks
Tempered glass, reflects the gaze
Of disgust, and anger, and love.
Empty eyes consume
Falling deeper into darkness
The muddled, tired soul.

I beg for attrition
The hate of each blow
Mirrored with regret.
Slowly giving way to
False freedoms.
Bound by the sins of father's.

A lineage of failed expectations
Cycle new objects of disappointment
Rising against patriarchal masters
Falling inevitably to new fruits
Of the poisoned family tree.