Mistakes plunging out of valor.
A price to embrace the veil.
Beneath all these spineless junctures,
that missed their fight and left no trail

of my owns, I defect the fathers
and hope to embrace the fame
of a gutless and frigid scholar
that hasn’t fought, and feels the shame.

Hunters, fighters
Hoping to face the secrets
Of the fury of the father
And the healing of the mother.

The righteous, the fearless
attempting to hide the secrets
Of the fury of the father
And the healing of the mother.

Neither powers.
Less struggle to show each closing cage.
And scabs that will never fade.
They’ll cling to all disguisements the same.

To feel what they suppress.
To hide what they unmask.
To fear what others trust.
My fault, my fate, my own.