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B Chapman Sep 2017
The one before me
remembers your face.
She still holds the fear
of a child abandoned,
watching a television full of static,
searching for safety,
comforting me because you wouldn't.

I'm blessed not to hold that pain.

The one you left behind a while after
fears a God you never taught loves
     her.
The world is pain and rage in her
     vision.

I was taught so different.

The youngest-
we can't find him.
We follow your path,
assuming it consumed him.
I desperately pray he still possesses
An ounce of faith and innocence.

They don't know a mother's touch.
They've never been rocked with love,
though too old and grown.
They don't connect with a father,
hugged after an explosion and told
'I love you.'

From the same womb as me,
we carry the same blood.
Yet only I
have ever felt loved.

What makes me so much more worthy?
Though all my relationships tend to be toxic, I feel an overwhelming guilt because I know I have more than they do.
B Chapman Sep 2017
Cold linoleum and hushed voices,
**** tests and strip searches.
Accept their help or don't make it.
Recondition to become a sheep.

Control yourself, only you can do it.
But don't find relief unless permitted.
It might be your flesh but don't scar it.
Eat these pills but don't enjoy them.

Purge what they don't preach.
Deny your soul a sense of self.
Rely on acceptance and kneel at their
     feet.
Molded into an institution's dream.

Time blurs until your release.
You don't recognize home or scent.
Remain tamed for years to come,
until their chains gratefully come
     undone.

Creature of habit and comfort
slipping back into an old phase.
Relief swells with an epiphany-
Rehabilitation has always been fiction.
This isn't to say rehab doesn't work. If it helped you, that's great.
B Chapman Sep 2017
Grass sticks to the bottom of my feet.
My head tilts back,
capturing the kisses of rain
as droplets race down my throat.

The foggy glow seeping from the east
softly turns my world into a prism.
Colors dance as rain flashes,
the music of thunder humming to me.

Hands circle my waist as lighting
     strikes.
A whisper in my ear urging to come
     inside.
A tug on my wrist as I reach for the
     sky.
I never wanted to be safe and warm.
  Sep 2017 B Chapman
Nathan
You're a dream
That crawled into my bed
And never came true

You're a laugh
          About to burst into tears

What you are
          Is vague
                And beautiful
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