Papa Pollinated, Mama Blossomed.

ONCE UPON A LIE

I Was One Of Six … 

The Youngest.  Different.  Like The Red-Headed Step Child.

“Except I’m Not A Ginger.  Just A Complex Fellow.  Hankering For One Simple Truth, Not A Version Of A Lie Perpetuated.”

… Then The Math Changed With Another Crooked Branch In The Family Tree I’d Uncovered.

 

ONCE UPON A DISCOVERY

I Was One Of Nine … 

Possibly Still The Baby.  Different.  Now, Where’d The Other Three Half-Siblings Come From?

“Well, They Didn’t Like My Kind Knocking On Their Door After All These Years.  An Inconvenient Bastard With A Dark Secret.  Papa’s Ugly Shadow Of The One Truth Revealed … Ain’t That A Shame?”

… Then The Number Was Eight.  Requiescat In Pace.  Brother, My Brother.

 

ONCE UPON I’LL NEVER KNOW

If That Magic Number Will Grow … 

Possibly The Only One.  Different.  So, Are There More Half-Bastards Out There?

“You Might Like My Kind.  An Uncommon Bastard Seeking The Light.  We’ve More Than Lies In Common … If You Want To Know The Truth.”  

… One Day The Number Will Be None.  Mama Done.  Papa Lothario’s Legacy Of Ill Repute Gone.

 

Image by Rebekka D from Pixabay

18 thoughts on “Papa Pollinated, Mama Blossomed.

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