I have this belief

That everything is inherited.

As we process, blossom, age, die

Energy everlasting is transformed.

Audacity and a nervous flair from my father,

Hips and logophilia from my mother.

Did the milky white rocks and pipe

Of my paternal DNA morph

Into my addiction to shopping, sugar, and that Sprite burn?

How did the hustle to provide, the passion for crafting, the rewiring and reworking of her brain

Curl itself into confining myself into isolation?

They say everything is inherited.

How do I recycle my damage?

Upcycle my joy.

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