My Recollection of a human’s portrait

I am disgraced by my own portrait,
I am graced by my own pattern.
I have inherited my father’s traits,
And therefore wounded my mother’s faith!
I love the feeling of recollection,
It allows my infinite deception,
Where I can bring memories far from hell,
Where it’s “ok” and not one can tell.
The real deal of my imperfection.
To be human is just a phase!
Not one is real, just a scene,
An entrance, an act, and an exit.



This is a Sonnet that i wrote one day when inspired by my life.
I don't expect people to understand it cause it is something deep deep inside myself. But if anybody does, i'm really interested to hear about it.