...and when the cycles are ruptured,
there are still the birds chirping.
The sun is always gleaming, casting
shadows, while you quarrell each day.
Your yelling resonates through me
and a pessimistic shell is permanent:
you can only laugh at humiliating me.
Your words are welts across my face,
abashment is your clearest nature to
stain me; your weakness; your accident.

(I am confounded as your mistake.)

Note from Jenna: You've lost me a long time ago. Even when I was born and you laid eyes on me. I will never, EVER be him.