Father of my mind


I have become the product of Hannibal Himself,
He had created me,
Birthed me to His will,
And kept me a prisoner in a life long Incubator,
One in which escape was inconceivable.

The poor bastard took life hard,
And once His seed developed semi-Structured branches,
The unpacking began.
Every moment that brought forth a Warped reality to Him,
He decided to warp the growth of His Seed, like it was a bonsai tree waiting for His intelligent master to guide him more Than Nature ever could.

However, instead of shaping the small- Bonsai to spaces where his branches could never reach,
He decided to make a self-centered mold,
And feed it with,
Bleach.

Time, was the fertile ground,
Not nature nor man can warp,
And in which the tiny tree laid rest.
Time knew the truth.
Time understood the traumatic torture the Tree had absorbed.
Yet, time did not care,
It only made him aware.

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