Mother, Father, don’t you dare patronise me.
Stern, don’t clarify.
Your world seemed so stained, oh what a harmful little place.
I spoke the truth
even when I knew I was wrong.
Silence was your lover, patience was your friend
and in the end, they’ll never care.
Again, a faded silhouette carved with disappointment.
If apathy was bright as the shining seas
I should advice no assistance.
If empathy was the light that would shine through the trees
I’d make sure to collect the leaves.
Mother Father find him a cure and keep your distance.
His thoughts have been misplaced again.
All that is left is endless critique.
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