rating: +11+x

You were born lucky.

Lucky the fentanyl didn’t kill you.

Lucky not to be sucked into the deep cracks of the system

Lucky to be as smart as you are.

Smart enough to know that luck runs out.

You don’t realize you’re trapped at that age. No, it’s your responsibility to free everyone else.

But tiny hands can’t pay bail.

Can’t hide all the spoons.

Can’t block every blow.

There's only so much water one can carry to the desert

But you. You can come away from all of this, you can be happy



You don’t notice the claws already digging deep into your back.

Only when they start slipping in the blood running down your legs

Only then can you feel it.

The thing you’ll never accept is that this was always guaranteed. It was set in stone far before you.

But, for now, you are still young. Still enamored with illusions of freedom. And you will have it.

What physically binds you will fade, leaving only dust in its wake.

Dust offers no apologies.

No matter how hard you plead.

There are not words that express what becomes of your mind.

You will never stop seeing your father in every boy you want so desperately to love.

Never look into the mirror without shame.

Never stop feeling the prickly claws of dread running up and down your back.

What they don’t tell you about is her.

Your beacon

Safe place


She'll hurt you most of all.


Because it’s easy to let her offer reassurances you force yourself to believe in the moment.

Easy to let her think they were all wrong about you.

Do you think they've had anyone like her?

You pretend she wouldn't cast you aside at your worst. Pretend you know how to be loved.

She is everything you could never have

But you know she cannot love you

She cannot change what is already done

Cannot tell you how proud she is

To have a daughter like you

A daughter like you?

You cannot be hers

You would only bring her shame

To see the pain in her eyes

Would be your undoing.

But leaving her rips apart your soul.

And thus, the burden is yours to carry again.

Shame follows you like a haze.

You see in their eyes that they once loved you

They loved you young and ambitious

Full of potential for change

Is that worse than never being loved at all?

To be a beacon of light among the shrouds of darkness that enveloped them

Yet what are you now? A floodlight reduced to a waning lamp.

You serve them better in their memory.

That way they cannot see what’s become of me.

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