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Writer's pictureEditorial Board

Enough with the Offspring


All red eyes speak the same story

Of minuscule tales of epic destruction

A pain that’s acquired in the very womb

And carries to the offspring’s grave.


The redness doesn’t wash

With the nurse’s hand

Neither does the life

Cut off with the umbilical cord.


I haven't found a child who wasn’t

A sequel to its parent’s story

Like flames sinking into themselves

We go back to genetic wiring.


Like a father dying in the age of cholera

Giving birth to a doctor, or killer

Bidding farewell to the disaster

Or the vessel of disaster itself.


Like a mother coming home late

Drunk. And the son beating his wife

Later in the bed. Gifts of the unknown?

No, there is a pattern here.


We’re all sending messages into future

Our ciphers will be deciphered

In the unsettled subconscious of impressionable minds. Don’t you see the pattern?


Never will they see an open sky

Those whose siblings got caught in storms

Never will they turn fish into the water

Those whose uncles drowned themselves.


You will carry the fear of your jilted mother’s pain

All your life: in not just your heart but your body

Your hormones will turn against your eyes

When a pleasant man walks by.


You will look inward when pre-pubescent girls

Smile at you from behind their raffle sheets

And think of your father, in a church

Using hands meant for prayers in twisted positions.


Why bring life in a lie

That doesn’t value purity?

Where loneliness sells faster than drugs

And hysteria darkens faster than nights.


And if it just so happens

That the wounds of your origins

Have been sewn long before

One cut after the other

And you have come into the world

Of an unfettered life of unhurt loins.


If it just so happens that you’re unscarred

Naked and small and only of yourself

In the world.

If it just so happens

That the womb you came from

Was healthy both in body and mind

Then stop it right there.


Protect:

Not just you but the

World from more like you.

For sum of all the labour

Is anguish and nothing more.

Enough with the offspring!

Either end a vicious cycle

Or end on a high.

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