can’t nobody sing like she can sing

there are times i think about you all

some thoughts are even happy

hindsight and memories are images

photos of once was detailed in gray-scale

i can taste the disappointment and loathing

i recognized it before i knew my own name

cruel and aloof were good times

belts, bruises, brushes, branches

the physical was easy peasy

the mental torture performed with expertise

i was created to capture and secure the paterfamilias

when plans fell through, as they often do

fire scorched the me i was before

childhood burned, a life left in a pile of ash

it’s hard to know what is proper behavior

five stories up walking a tight-rope in a tornado

but i did all that could be done without apology or disguise

i am wretched and ugly and dull

less than human

i wanted to be loved and to love

i missed that lesson

i am quite skilled in the art of bête noire

a prisoner from birth

bound and gagged with familial ties



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