Inheritance

I inherited all of your traits, the good and the bad, 

The ones that I loved, and the ones you swore you never had. 

Dad, I inherited your narcissism, but I got Mom’s deep empathy,

A strange combination that leaves me feeling confused and empty.

I got mom’s laughter but not the truly happy kind.

Just a nervous little echo that nerves hide behind. 

I got her unapologetic volume, a spirit born to speak free, 

But I always hid it away because you were ashamed when I was me. 

I get mom’s massive heart, her desperate need to care,

Her gentle habit of singing to a room of empty air. 

She is full of love and brilliant light but terrified of the dark, 

Willing to let you trample her to avoid your angry spark. 

I learned to be a floormat, to bend until I ache, 

To turn a blind eye to the damage for the quiet’s sake. 

I watched her swallow conflict, too afraid to start a fight, 

And I carried that same silence like a collar pulled too tight.

And from you, Dad, I got the mundane. A deep love for good food

And watching documentaries to shift a heavy mood.

But I also got your attitude, your boisterous yell,

A vocabulary sharpened just to drag someone through hell. 

I have your twisted talent to easily tear someone down,

To use my syllables as cinderblocks and watch them as they drown. 

You taught me how to break a spirit with my tongue, 

A bitter, demeaning anthem I hate that I have sung. 

But here is where the bloodline stops, where the poison has to end. 

I keep the unconditional love, but I refuse to just pretend. 

I unlearned the quiet shrinking, unlearned the blinding fear. 

I now speak my mind with clarity, loud so everyone can hear. 

I will stand up for the broken, never falling to be your mat, 

And though I have your venom, I refuse to strike like that.

I could tear a person down to bone, but I choose empathy instead, 

Spreading love into the world to heal the bitter words you spread. 

I take the brightest parts of both of you and step into the light.

I inherited your weapons, but I choose not to fight.