Like Monster Like Son

The concrete my father
Once finished
Turned out more durable
Than he ever could and
Walking across his work
Some thirty years later
I pass through his bent ghost
Down on aching knees

Some of his craft
Is beginning to flake
And crumble
But still holds true
To its original form
Something
He did as well
Only his mold was cast
In the hands of
Blood most hateful
Bound to deteriorate
Before its time

Watching him waste away
Through eyes
He robbed of innocence
I understand
That having never stood
On a solid foundation
He never had a chance
Of crafting one himself

Descending from cracked streets
I too
Seek a lasting legacy
But as it was with him
My best work
Is better off unnoticed
Beneath the feet
Of so many passerby’s