Unable to return it, the boy kept his mother’s gift;
heard it, understood it,
accepted her beast of words.
Ill-conceived, born of incompetent rage,
it latched itself inside his aching rib cage.
Wary of guilt-ridden, thinly spread
slices of mother’s pride,
the beast gnawed at young bones,
consuming his youth instead.
The boy grew old dealing with its anger.
He questioned his beast, learnt resilience,
nurtured a fierce desire to protect his wound.
And striving to become self-aware,
a better parent than his own, he remained vigilant,
lest his mother’s gift feast on his own bastards.
Picture Credit: Jacob Riis (wikicommons)