I once belonged to a clan
family sprung from centuries
anointing union with their love
now I stand deserving none
the apple fell close to the tree
with a madness of maternal bent
claiming one and perhaps the next
time will tell if doom descends

ingratitude would seem a trait
consequence of anger’s gift
prompting ill where none should be
look to the heart for sad comment
almost denying illness held
behind the mask of disregard
those tall walls none should climb
are reality in the mind

remove the blame from elder folk
the hate that's felt is for myself
pushing all that may soothe
to the fringes beyond my soul
don’t judge those with the chore
of raising children full of scorn
for the breadth of sad madness
divides the sick from those who care.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180806.