We watched our fathers die.
We watched them live out and stretch out and die.
We watched them enter and dance and fold and fetch, They were like puppies on strings. We could control them with laughter. And meat. When they were full they could rest. But until then, they worked. They worked in the sun. They worked in the fields, on the roads, and in the rain. They worked indoors and with trinkets and toys.
By the time we were men, they were gone. But they had made us that way, so they live on.
-anon·y·mous
okay, it was me.