Fruit Of My Father

The enveloping swell,

the rapture encompass,

I feel such but inside me

I turn I do confront this.


All my passions turn cold

and I think of children of

mothers and fathers who

raised women with love.


All beauty captivates my

eyes see curves and hair;

soft skin, petite faces, eyes

I look in remove despair.


Deeper past eyes I view,

my adolescence is through.

I’ve gray hair and tattoos

that are old, wrinkle I do.


I a man was raised by rod,

my father’s words my God.

I through a day do to trod

to tell myself I am not odd.


But I am and I see an illicit

world that can’t resist it,

the carnal lust it’s implicit

but in such I will never fit.

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