If children are the fruit
fallen from the family tree
they are as they are made
fruits of the parents' own devise.
Not until a child decides
to be more than how they're made
can self be found within
the are a product of the parents' plan.
As they age and then ferment,
playing the role genetics cast them in,
some outside force scoops them up
and throws them in a crowded vat.
Heat and mixture and time coincide
and the only escape out of hell
is in the distilled drops
of sprits refined, distilled.