Survival of the Fitest
In this hardship of survival
of the fitest...
I detest the idea of "kill or
be killed",leaving me rather
frabbergasted of the context..
i quiver in fear of what's upon
me...
When people remind me that
am a spiting image of my
father, i remember his wrongs
and never his rights...
My brother the complete
spiting image of my
father.Remind's me of the old
man who was there but was
never there, saying but never
speaking,pointing but not
directing,gazing but not
looking.....
I remember the hardships i
faced when all he had to do
was look at me, and help me
find my way again...
My fitness came with anger, it
came with sorrow, and the
undisputedy bitterness of my
soul, brought out the best in
me...like an hatching egg, i
will not beg to be
released...As i am acustomed
to survival..
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
