Whose Son Is This Youth?

His legs used to feel heavy every morning he wakes and tries to walk but somehow suddenly he's running. Running into the waiting open arms of his beloved mother who just arrived from work. That feeling of love cruises round the heart like cool springs of water flowing down deep into the soul. He looks into the mirror and sees himself...a face yet to grasp existence and reality. Questions falling into books opened and everytime the answer is yet to be revealed by those who act like the wise and guide with commanding words. Questions like: WHY DO I HAVE TO GO TO A PLACE CALLED SCHOOL EVERY MORNING? WILL I EVER BE A MAN? WILL I EVER BE FREE FROM THIS VOICE COMMAND (parents/guardians)? A youth with a million questions huh? Does what a father say to his son ever make him his son? or does it create another kind of man not like THE FATHER? People grow to be someone, not necessarily who begot them. A man is never not really like his father.