It is, I, the fruit of their labor.

The living embodiment of their American Dream.

Fat & rosy,

Eyes of cold steel.

They were just shy of greatness—

But their narcissism cursed an entire generation,

Bringing savagery wearing a cloak of civility

As they marched on foreign beaches

And convinced the natives to welcome their diseases

Like natural masters of manipulation.

My family name loosely translates to Ground Zero—

But it brings no wealth

Or glad tidings.

Only a long, winding trail that always leads back to Eve and that damn snake.