Apple Doesn't Fall Far From The Tree

Tender

is the touch of my mother's skin

Heavy

is the weight of my father's sin

Rough

is the graze of their hands

Meek

is my voice, unable to stand

Tired 

are the ears

burdened by my constant state here

"Love is patient. Love is kind"

Then why do these walls reverberate

with fiery hot fear?

You must be a myth, Love

for mine is laced with tears

I scoff at you, deceptive Love

Yet in the dark of night,

you fit me like a glove

a faint flicker of hope burning bright

But I bury you Love, deep in my voice

I am the next generation, the illusion of choice