Born of stone and scripture, a chiseled child,
Shaped by shadows, where duty smiled.
A father's fist, a granite line,
Molded expectations, a design divine.
Mother, a tempest, wind in her hair,
Bipolar whispers, a haunting flare.
Her moods, like lightning, crackled and surged,
Leaving scars in shadows, unspoken, unpurged.
Within this fortress, my spirit confined,
By...
Continue reading...