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Genetics

What beauty is there
In the anger that spills from your lips?
After every kiss
A fight
Uneven ground
I’ve become so good at telling lies
The droplets fall; I wipe them
Away
Without a thought
You used to brush them from my cheeks
With tentative hands and shaking fingers
Now I turn away,

I really am my mother’s child
But I have my father’s rage
Pent up inside
My brother just has his eyes
From which, I turn away
Though I love my brother dearly
All the pain
And the exercises
And yet he grabs my hand, still
Pleads with those eyes
That belong to a different face
One much less kind.

I could run
But my fate would find me
As it travels through my veins
Filing through my DNA
I was born to wear this broken crown
Genetically programmed
This damaged commodity.


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