Said the Father

I hate my mortal-made visage,
this neatly numbered plaque.
Not once did I demand a form,
for I was born abstract.

It hurts enough to hold my seat
along with Lady Life,
and watch her wondrous dance debase
before my boundless sight.

It pains me to be so involved
with what she gave the earth.
It pains me knowing I'm the one
who makes in vain her birth.

Though, that I cannot hope to change
nor can I my physique;
but still, to watch you humans is
to watch my Life grow weak.

To watch you not with eyes but with
a pair of telling hands--
must be convenient for your cause,
though still I'll reprimand.

Inanimates, abstracts and rules
all harbor intellect;
though, it would seem that such a fact
you humans don't suspect.

A statue in your living room,
an emblem on your wrist--
what more must I become to prove
your selfish kind exists?

I can't believe you had the nerve
to keep my frame in date,
with flick'ring numbers to alarm
and ward your waking late!

As I am now, what choice have I
but regulate your death;
forgive my pessimistic mind,
but fate I must accept.

It pains me to resign these hands
unto the Reaper's call,
to have to mark your every rise,
and mark your only fall.

Copyright © Michael Perriatt | Year Posted 2009

Please Login to post a comment