People fear my father, unknowing that I am a nightmare made in his image.
A version so exact, I am not surprised that I am not yet known. His shadow still overpowering, there is no possibility of seeing me.
A nightmare they say, with honor and the strongest affinity for loyalty, a ferocious fire exists in his veins. It is the weak and the dishonest who should really be afraid.
It is why we burn so bright.
People adore my mother, unknowing that I am an apparition of her image.
A version with many differences, despite my frame or features. Kind and intentional, I could be loved like her too, with my temperament under a careful eye. The needs of others often satisfied before my own.
It is why we care so intensely.
The burning in my veins comes from two holy sources. A destiny I will never have the power to separate from.
I wish for shadows to make way for light, for that fire to burn despite the way I am loved or all the ways I lack it. I wish for the recognition that I am righteously due.
People fear my father, love my mother.
Be it a nightmare or apparition, love or fear, I will always be of both.
A Series of Observations 