Within a family unit,
There is often a black sheep,
A knife that doesn’t fit in the drawer,
Making incisions in its own style,
Shunned by the whole kitchen,
Reduced to a sad anecdote,

At times that individual is at fault,
A blade used for untoward purpose,
And rightly discarded,
Other times it is the family that’s wrong,
Perhaps through hate or bigotry,
Slicing haphazardly like a machete,

In that event,
Don’t succumb to the same nasty rust,
Be the blade that severs generational evil,
Don’t inflict a cutting legacy on your children,
Be better,
Cut the ties.

Comments
  1. Excellent poetry and poignant and Valid point. Bravo!

  2. Cassa Bassa says:

    I love how you are determined to break free from the generational curses.

  3. tara caribou says:

    Generational Knife. I love that.

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