Art "Redneck Thanksgiving"

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It is a stark reality,
We can pick our nose, but not a family.
Who are these people who share our blood?
They become dead weight, making us sink in life's mud.
Ritualistic gatherings designed to form a bond,
To insure loyalty to others who were spawn.
You may pick your nose, but not kin,
From womb to tomb, you are forced to blend.
With Intimate Strangers you must dwell,
While they inflict pain and put you through Hell.
Because of same blood, you owe an eternal debt,
Reminded daily, I am your family, lest we forget.
Family ties, soon become chains,
To hold you fast and make you remain.
Sadly, we may pick our nose, but not family,
We must all hang from a rope on family's tree,


For all who read and comment, THANK-YOU