Blood

The blood that runs through my veins,
comes from a family that was insane.
A genetic curse some families bare.
See our bloodline we must share.
As one steps to take a look,
opening a life up like a book.
Knowing I am me because you were you.
No way around what people say being true.
The blood in me was in you too.
I see you in me in some things I do.
Should I see this as a gift?
Or our some left with a curse to lift?
A choice to me is what life is about,
but the blood that is in me causes doubt.
Feeling them inside me screaming out.
Deep in my bones is a constant shout.
The blood that runs through my veins,
is a curse that has blotted many stains.
Covered seemingly with pain that remains,
as long as their blood runs through my veins.