Old Bones

Children are ores
Parents hew them from rock
Chipping away the unwanted rubble

And when you arrive
Squalling from the womb
White hot and alive

Each interaction
Each embrace
Is the smiths forge
On your unbeaten soul

You are shaped
And warped
And hammered
Into a tool that others find desirable

But iron will never be gold
beautiful and shining
Zinc will never be titanium
Strong and light

No matter how hard you hammer

The strength with which you hit me
Dent me
I am unmalleable
Unmoving
As the ore you took me from

I am not brittle
But if you keep
Squeezing
Heating
Gently coercing
I will fill the mold
Which you painstakingly created
Another carbon copy of you

Until, stretched beyond my limits
I shatter, a weaker version of you

Unless, I overcome your limitations
I melt, forging a new soul

With old bones