Character Development

A bit of marrow from my father,
The blood of a desperate son,
Muscle forged in the horrors of youth,
And skin burnt too much by the sun.

I dress him in the rags of my debt,
And press him into the service of my life;
He builds contraptions I've dreamt,
Always longing for the love of my wife.

His stars fate him for more than I am,
Driven by neuroses not his own
He'll remake a world his god has made,
A patchwork doll stuffed and sewn.