Bits and Pieces of My Mind

I Take After My Parents

Everyone takes after their parents in some way.

Whether it be with their eyes, whether it be their hair, their lips…

For me, my wrists are like my mothers, jagged with scars.

Scars that were placed there by shoving knives into them, causing blood to pump from our veins onto the cold tiles of the bathroom.

They say that your parents blood is in yours, but both of ours are fully mixed on those tiles where our bloodstains belong.

And my eyes, like my fathers, for when you look in them, hatred and rage is all that is seen.

But that is only the cover, like foil that covers a meal.

But for me, it is not a meal that is covered,

But my pain. My raw emotions that are hidden behind my enraged eyes are tears, like my Father’s.

So, whether it be your pain, your scars, you zest or hatred for life,

I- you- we, take after our parents. Whether for the greater good or not