PatternsA Poem by Laz K.Are you but your mother, Father,
and the gods that made you, Wove
and sewed you out of the Same cloth they are made of? A different pattern or fold that Looks
brand new, but feels old, Worn out, frayed, recycled. A
coat inherited can be A
badge of honor merited, Or
it can weigh you down with Sins of the past, stains and all. With a cross like that to bear, You can’t stand tall. Stuffed into pockets secrets lie, Let
me be me, or let me die. © 2024 Laz K.Reviews
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1 Review Added on June 20, 2024 Last Updated on June 23, 2024 Author
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