Weaponised Blood
I look just like my mother.
Our eyes blend into each other.
I wear her features everywhere.
The more of life I uncover,
The more I see we share the same suffering.
Her blood runs in me,
the way I try to run free.
But I weaponise her blood to flee.
I am her reflection she always sees.
What an honour it is to be like you—
nobility and humility running through.
But don’t forget the last racers too:
agony and weakness, trailing behind us two.
All racers walk the same path,
ending in the same bloodbath,
charging both her and my neuropath.
She’s known for being an empath—
I buried that part in the earth,
afraid of taking the same warpath.
A mirror never lies—
It only reverses what we’re afraid to face.
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