those tattered ghosts;
broken and beaten,
withered and old.
They carried such burdens,
such heartache and pain;
searing through their souls,
staining mine just the same.
And how they begged me and pleaded,
those tattered ghosts;
that I break the cycle,
this tradition of generational grief.
For they may not have been able,
to bring upon change;
but those curses will end,
if not with them than with me.