Of strength and infirmities

We are sons of opportunity,

products of fate,

forged in the lake,

of troubles.

We are the prey,

bounties with a tag,

born for the ruins,

of chaos.

We are the seeds,

rooted, up and screwed,

reflections of shame,

of reproach.

We are the parchments,

torn epistles,

letters of infirmities and,

of strengths.

•••••••••••

For P, 

He refused to be intimidated by the chains, emerging each day, armed with grace.