The war between procreator and progeny

   You clench your hand around my throat
           And SQUEEZE until my eyes roll.
   R e l e a s i n g your grip before my last breath
                    Can escape,
   Before my soul can rise above you.
Always pulling me down to your level.
   And dragging me along your path towards
       Paranoia   Anxiety   Revenge.
   What will it take for you to set me free?
             I know this question is rhetorical
       Because like a HYENA,
   You would rather E A T your young
                    Than go hungry.
You would rather destroy me to satisfy your own impulses.
    Peace of mind, for whom? You,
        While I am akin to Hamlet
              Only, my madness is U N F E I G N E D.
   For I have decided “’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,”
                            A conscience- coward,
   With eyes averted to sky,
             Full to the brim with HOPE and PRAYER,
For God’s d e c r e e on Judgment Day.
                         But that’s just who I am,
Unorthodox to you, orthodox to morality.