though devotion is gone, it lingers on, as you can't break a bond so long; and, in the meantime, you get clean as you take your time, tracing the bloodline through flesh on the vine
under the family tree, beyond the leaves you can't see (and how unwillingly) you let your seeds grow- there they go, leaving you to sow bereft are your leaves, beset with weeds
and, in your descendancy, define a picture of needs that should never have been no, they should not, cos it was not created for you to empty your blood upon- you got your own
and i feel empty, as i see i'm not much farther. you run for cover with the island daughter; here in your mirror, we're getting smaller. and it's healthy, but it's killing me to bother you run, full of the feathers of a father, a sister, brother; now me, your mother