Why I am

I am my father's child .
I am , due to the fire of his loins
That smelt me into a burnt being.
I am due to the fire of his heart ,
In which anger was plenty in.  
I am , because once , he was drunk in the way he loved mother ,
Staggered into passion and desire .
He was young , and during then , adored her.  
He grew up , and then , abhorred her
And this tore her ,
Not immediately but eventually into ashes.  

I am by the river ,
Tears running down my cheeks like a river
As I scatter her ashes into the river
The cremated particles— the only parts I have left of her .

I will not not refer to you in this poem ,
    Darling
Get lost ! Flit your eyes away ,
Even if I yearn to fit into your heart ,
It doesn't matter —
         Feet
Oh ! Feet
They were not the death of her
Only age was .
How her death lingered,
Her cracked breathing like a fire crackling
But still hope lingered   .
The beep of the machine – the halt of the soul's human luggage — the curb of her cries
 —the pause of her heart ,
Was also the degradation of mine .
Hope scurried away , ( moanful voice ).

I know nothing lasts
But it remains permanent that I am a product of my father's lust
Why is it that this fact continues to exist
And yet my mother , whom  I loved turned to dust ?