Shoot your cum, have a son, then run.
Relinquish all responsibility and move out of the vicinity.
Cut contact completely and subtract me from your life, there’s a patriarch shaped hole that was created by your knife, scar tissues of daddy issues grew around me from inception, I’ve been cauterised like I was an offspring infection.
Impose gift-giving guilt-ridden grandparents granting overoptimistic outcomes of patriarchal peacemaking.
Implement an abundant abandonment complex that bottlenecks the bitter taste of bloodline bereavement.
Curse me with congenital characteristics, hallmarks that
spark remarks and an intrinsic inquisitiveness to unearth
my AWOL ancestor.
After puncturing your papa palisades and dismantling your daddy defences, I started feeling that fatherly phosphorescence flow betwixt but then it clicks that you’re transfixed on tormenting a human you helped to create and now it’s too late to converse and reverse the years of hurt and the decades of denial.
I refuse to analyse the whys whilst you try to metastasise my mind and leave me blind.
I disengage my rage and I disengage you.
It’s time to flatline the purposeless patriarch and exorcise the demon dad.