Unfamiliar faces
As I take off my father’s face,
You put on your mother’s.
The less I become like him,
The more you become like her.
What a pity.
I always wanted to be his image,
I looked up to him.
His callous upbringing decrypted his image.
I look away from him now.
Your mother was a portrait you never wanted to be.
A ferocious beauty painted on money bags.
This portrait now hangs on your face,
Nothing matters but how much your account has.
We never wanted to be these yet here we are.
What have we done?
What have we become?
Are we proud of who we now are?
At least tell me we made them proud!
I pray my son take my face as your daughter keeps your grace.
This poem came to me when things started going wrong between my ex and I.
