His Blood Still Runs Through My Veins
Was he a great father,
like the others were?
Should I indefinitely hate him,
and still despise his arrogance...
when I asked for understanding?
I saw less and less of that father figure,
as he occupied himself with wrongdoings,
neglecting a child's feelings...
His blood still runs through my veins,
and this undeniable truth is the intruder
that should make me aware of his faults:
when temptation surpasses judgement,
and silence is a dreadful deceiver...
to keep everything to myself,
and subside any sublime emotion about to rise,
which any good soul should be able to express!
Father, you are dead...buried for decades
into the family's well-kept chapel;
all that is missing is the sight of an angel,
and my presence to mourn your death!
How can you justify yourself,
if the grave won't allow anyone to speak?
Before death carried you to a different place,
where all senses cease to induce a long sleep,
none other than certitude afflicted me
more than a condemnation so cruel
from an endless God of mercy!
If Hell is only for the wicked ones,
and Heaven is only for the good ones;
why do we need a Judgement Day?
Let my opinion be so controversial,
to oppose a doctrine that's so universal!
His blood still runs through my veins,
and these genes are a reflection of what he was alike;
and to repress my gender and be ashamed of him,
would be wrong and dishonorable on my part!
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