My heritage,
Femininity and white trash in my bones. Running through my veins,
And I’m hiding curves and beer bellies under a black hoodie.
They know now, and they’re coming for me,
This will never be a fair fight,
Them, equipped with ignorance and bliss.
And me?
Armed only with the knowledge that I tried.
My heritage is a lonely one,
Born into a world where I cannot breath.
And every hill is a mountain,
Every day: a cliff.
And I’m standing at the edge of the plank.
With this world, and these people,
I may just find serenity in leaving.
Yet still, the hairs on the back of my neck want to stay,
And there’s no place like home,
And there’s femininity in beer bellies.
I wish I was born here,
Maybe things would be easier- probably not.
I wish I was just beer bellies,
Or just the other one,
But not.
I wish this was easy,
I wish she wasn’t dead.
I wish I was.
I wish I died at 12 and was reborn here.
I wish I could go home,
But I can’t find it on this map.
The map is broken,
And you’re not listening to me.
I’m just a kid,
Unwanted and unnoticed.
Every inch I move hurts like a poem about that thing,
The other one.
And I’m hiding in this costume because I like it,
It itches just right,
And it’s starting to smell nice.
There’s another suit at the end of the tunnel,
Vacant, but it smells like life, and fire.
I wonder if there was once another lost kid in it.
I take it before they can notice,
I run to the cottage on the hill,
The mountain,
The cliff,
I jump,
I don’t jump,
I cry,
I sing,
I’m home.

2 thoughts on “Heritage

  1. You’ve got great stuff going on here. At the same time, you’ve also got lines here you could also just toss out. I mean this in the best way. Lines such as, “I’m hiding curves and beer bellies under a black hoodie” are totally great. Others, however, give too much away to the reader; they give away a narrative that’s already in your images and power. Trust that the reader is at least as smart as you are. They may not be, but trust that they are.

    Liked by 1 person

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