Bittersweet memories, of Him and me… Fading glances through foggy lenses, accumulations, through time on the minds of scared little ones now grown up enough to know better than their mistreatments would have them believe, allowing empathy in to soften the blow that masculinity from generations before practiced on their children. Spanks and lashes upon maturing psyches, understands, and bodies, with sprinkles of expressions of love that fought hard to come out, but the words never quite made it out. Generations before, caught up within their own personal wars, and raising combatants in their ranks that question authority.
Worlds of differences, within heads separated by years of lessons, previous corrupted views, and social conditionings that constantly change while older positions refuse to accept newer judgements that show its aging structures and beliefs, questioning moral fibers and commitments to break or follow rules that stifle growing up little kids that don’t want any conversions, just freedoms.
Alas, Fathers were stifled from father’s before them, and just dishing out what’s proven inside of them, to unleash upon his loved ones, for better, or worse, and after death departs the physicality, but remains the memories, forevermore, to grind and weigh-in on the participants they’ve bared. Masculinity takes its course out on innocence, while current feminine watches on the sidelines, ready to further coitus the Sol of true meanings of words, such as bad or good, and whom gets to ingrain that perception others…until they’re able to grow out of it.