Metaphorically speaking

I have this tendency
I take ownership of stages
I have yet to stand on
Once my mother
My mother told me to escape reality
Create your own she said

So I dreamt foreign
Of itching palms
And deceased relatives
In dreams my grandmother associated
With great wealth
And ceremonies
That needed to be performed

But I saw nothing out of the ordinary
As my imagination
Presented itself as an itch
In hopes to grab my attention
Through setting my hands on fire

I felt myself missing a corpse
A body that once carried
My blood through its veins
So my mind
My mind logged on to forgotten memories
Reflections of my brother
In mirror that is 4 decades older him

To mould a statue
Paint a portrait
Create images
That made me feel closer to him
My father
Haploid
One pair of my chromosomes

Perhaps the only reason why today
I can say that I’m standing tall
With nerves of steel
Calling a spade a spade
In a stage that has never belonged to me

But has loved me without condition
As if to say
I may be the first stage you stand on
But I will definitely not be the last