The Progeny

Prayers won

A prodigal son

Joy and relief

Belied belief

Mild as mild

Wild as wild

Self styled

Destiny's child

Grew up quick

Nice and slick

Soft but firm

On his own terms

Wouldn't suck

By chance or luck

Wouldn't sit

And take bullshit

The world viewed

His attitude

As rough and naive

Fit to deprive

He stood his ground

Without a sound

No one dissolved

His massive resolve

His critics' silence

And their fall

Was not in violence

But in standing tall