If my word were my bond
you would not look at me
with disappointment scorn
For whether you were held
to account for childhood
for past mistakes and lies
Maybe you would then see
why I wanted to wipe
the slate clean at eighteen
You hear me state thirty
years later I would have
been better off stillborn
Worthless as an adult
hopeless as a small boy
in a home without love
Ordinary people
don't make a whipping boy
of one son for a prince
Reason states the first born
son is indeed worthy
more so than the others
Despised for being born
another mouth to feed
another child to raise
Worthless son second born
cheated stole and told lies
hid behind wicked green
Eyes clinical and cold
as hospital bedsheets
but of course mine are brown
Rely on a liar
to continue to tell
lies with the Lord above
Ever seeing His son
struggle over hurdles
obstacles ever since
Men thought to crucify
others for their beliefs
a river stone gathers
Yellow moss as water
washes over its sins
but how can a stone speak
Better off dead my word
is my bond as are lies
I tell to poor readers
Only to make mischief
for our deceased father
and old mother the clown
No one ever wanted
who tried to runaway
followed the path of weak
Despicable men men
of worthless character
like myself not leaders
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