Poem: On the State of Paternal Lineage

The father told his son he was
Proud of him because when the

Marching band performed, he was
The only one who stayed in line.

It was a cruel thing to say,
But cruelty runs in families.

The boy would have his silent revenge
As his father aged out of competence,

Coherence, and consciousness, but
The boy’s own executioner was

Already born, marching for revenge,
Right down the line.

r horton

people playing wind instruments
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