War.

A legacy of nervousness and trembling hands
Burden of being child-like and obeying
Falling or shaking after every five steps.
Expectation of choosing a master
Giving the master the ideal 'lil girl'
Hearing, "Darlin' this world is too hard a place for you!
So let me amputate and blindfold you. Carry you around."
A hole which they aim and work hard to fill
Mocking our incompletion and us fighting a reckless battle.

My limbs, they have grown back.
But walking is hard. Either I run amock or sit.
Out of a fear of my ancestors' fate, I shoot at sight.
Shoot any who try to possess. The legacy then activates.
A dark cloud of thunder and insanity falls over the  mind.
Nervous recollections and paint of a beautiful doll
Runs in my blood and forces to come out.
A whiff of fire, and senses come back.

Caution, terrible caution. A warrior killing innocence
My sword is bloodied and drenched.
In the blood of descendants of the beast.
I had ripped many hearts out and devoured.
Out of fear, comes this violence.
Fear of smiling at what my mothers did.
Fear of tears that my sisters shed on graves of their souls.
Either I continue the blood-bath or submit to the Father.