A Life on Paper

You're taking an English test;

a definition pops up.

You're absolutely clueless;

this one's way too tough.

You're about to skip this mind bender, 

but you give it a second chance.

Your curiosity is instantly piqued,

so you have to give it a glance.

Your eyes skim the words,

until your heart leaps out at a certain phrase.

Your breaths turn into gasps of air,

as you're transported back to the place...

You're left alone yet again; 

you wish you didn't feel like dirt.

Just once, you wish that jackpots and cheap shots

didn't replace his arms of comfort.

You're devouring the words now;

everything is starting to click.

Your breaths are now chokes of emotion,

as the words "immigrant mother" hit...

You're at the hospital again;

for her sacrifices, not for yourself

You're here for the one who matters most

because nothing overshadows her health.

You're lost in the text;

the words have binded you to the page.

You've reached the sentence: "I'll always be there.";

and it knocks you back to a different age.

You're drowning.

The push came out of nowhere.

You never would've guessed water to be your downfall;

his arms appear, proving his words weren't just hot air.

Your class is almost over; 

why did that question take the whole class?

Are you sure of your answer;

you really need this test to pass.

You confident that it's right. 

Who else could it be?

The answer has to be a name.

I am the only one with such a family.