plead

I am too much like my father
that much I know.

Too often I share his jokes,
too often I say his lines,
too often I wish he loved me more.

But please,
God,
don’t let me be like that.

Please,
God,
make me be
more like my mother,
not like him.

Because the more
similarities
she notices

The more
I remind her
of someone
once there

Then
the more
I see in her face
that she hurts.

and when she hurts,
so do I.