Never free, loved.
Never free
Not that I want to be.
Prenatal debt: Nurtured. Redeemed. Sustained.
Prevalent like ancestry, extending past death.
They hold me, scold me, embolden me:
Nothing I deserve–
Should be flung like pennies after a long day onto the dresser–or the floor.
But He keeps me, she keeps me, he keeps me, you keep me.
Mid-Doubt
Will you be there in my crisis?
Standing between a knife, a bridge, and me
That I don’t think I could ever do,
But could just live to live and survive
Except for the kids I might as well die.
I deserve the crap I get from you,
But do I know who I am.
I have a family I am not free.
Do I need to be?