We don't know much about another than a name shared
by Alan Kabanshi
To you I am a reminder of the devils work, if not a clown
But you are a sad reminder of my hereditary piece that fits upside down
Now I stand at a crossroad, my back sagging to this oblique load
Exhausted by the stings of kindred discord
Should we be despicably yoked just in honor of our heirs and assign?
I once thought us alike, but now from this distance I only see the differences
Our kinship can only take us far by keeping up appearances
We were a fortune guarded by scarecrows, overtime the lie was overstretched
Now all that was handed down lies broken in pieces
My choices may seem ungrateful, but know I have always been thankful
What is to be lost, if apart we find peace or opportunity for hate to skip a generation?
For whoever will stand alone, diminished the position maybe, relies but on his strength
And that, if you asked, is a more reassuring sight than the current pretense we paint.