“You Aren’t Gonna Be One of Those Kids Who Complain About Their Childhood, Are you?”

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Yes, I will be. Yes, I am.

Yes, screw you,

You were not there.

You were in prison.

Remind me, why your Mia self can be snarky,

Questioning me as if I tasted

Like dog shit.

I don’t care if you tell me to

Get over it, or

That I can take it

Because in order to do either of those,

I need to let it go-

Much like you need to do with alcohol-

I must realize my addiction, yes?

My addiction, no.

Let me remind you

Of the marks slashed on my skin

From not knowing what other knew-

I was book smart,

But I couldn’t grasp them in my mind

Like I could my hands.

Look at me-

The person you named,

And trained to walk

Too early for my own good.

Look at my house-

Falling apart with the mind who owns it.

People ask me, “how do you do it”

And I tell them, I don’t.

I can’t, really.

It’s not quite possible,

Just out of reach-

Like when you swim towards the Sun

At the beach.

So deep a space to fall,

So far a space to go.

Don’t criticize me for what you see,

Because when you see all of me

You’ll notice how I play against myself,

Different nerves sounding

Splendid notes

Of love, need, agony, and hatred.

You tell me I didn’t have it so bad, but

You don’t know what I had-

Really, what I usually didn’t have.

Like food, and water-

Clothes that fit.

You don’t realize that the stories we share-

All several of us, are true.

She did take care of everyone of us,

Almost didn’t graduate high school.

He was left alone,

Now his ear is deaf from a mechanical pencil

His step-father was too busy drinking beer to see.

And her? She will never tell you

About the thoughts she would colour on her wrists

From the insults spewed like poverty

I still constantly fucking hear directed at me-

And I have really exploded

It just hasn’t shown yet,

Because the light of my blast

Can only travel so fast to reach you

Especially, when I don’t want it to.

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