These are just words
I use to paint my grief
The regret of being
The source of loss
My children endure
And in their DNA I see
All that is good in you and me
Our proud and ridiculous progenitors
Alcoholics, madmen, and Pocohontas
Cannot save me
From the flaws and wrinkles
Of plot
A God who will not be put in a box
Takes the only picture
That matters