Diamond-backed traitor, rattle and wriggle as if that noise hurts me!
I’m used to this type of thing, father, and nothing you can say I haven’t already had said to me.
At the brink
Of death’s door,
Linger on the sweet child of my lineage, and face the world as I’ve taught you.
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Disregarded safety and malicious complacency,
Forces my hand into a belief, for my hands have not the salty sea.
That woman, that one, she who tends the water:
“Can I not be one, and be immortal, since I have not touched your spring?”
Goodnight, sweet father of my descendance.
Goodnight, my ancestor.
This is what they have, and this is the way Earth declares, “it will always be.”
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“Oh, confused, anxious little wanderer,” you tell me.
“Listen to this tale, and take it what you will.”
Has it no message? Only in perception does the meaningless have a meaning.
These are the problems of the family, though I guess you could say that they live, no more.23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXagZBSqBiQ
