The Rotten Seed

The '60s were so long ago.
I see you crying on the stage.
The truth at last we came to know
that violence can only grow,
a rotten seed that fathers sow
and whose dark fruits they gage.
The '60s were so long ago.
I see you crying on the stage.
 
But love can manifest with age,
forgiveness joins the high and low.
You spoke, with tears anew confession's wage,
about when you were beaten in a rage
by some sadistic schoolmaster on stage...
Before your peers, in assembly, on show.
But love can manifest with age,
forgiveness joins the high and low.
 
To know that you were child once
has been the lesson of our end.
The violence inveigles, blunts,
it dries the heart behind its fronts.
Inside the man, the tortured boy still hunts
(this was the truth you had to send).
To know that you were child once
has been the lesson of our end.