inspired by Prison Terms by Diane Kendig

My mother was an inmate at Marysville Women’s Prison when I was born
(Now call the Ohio Reformatory for Women)
It would **** her off to know I’m telling you all this
But I will not live in her cage
She brought enough of those chains home with her
And beat me with them
Until I spit blood from my broken lip

But still, this jail baby bird will sing

I was sent to live with my grandparents
Nowadays, they don’t send the kids anywhere
They stay with their mothers in their cages
Even the babies have prisoner numbers
Born prisoners

My mother got out a year later
Together, my parents got me back
Although I never spent a day inside the reforming cage
I inherited the prison in my heart
My heredity legacy is to be forever trapped

The Jail Baby
Born in bars
I built my own prison

After my divorce
After another woman failed me
I failed her

I built my own dungeon
All that glitters is gold
And my glitter stuck to everything
I trapped myself in shiny baubles
And burned my life to glowing cinders of
White hot unredeemable rage

My catharsis came from feeling the burn
I ran circles in my cage
So I would never catch up with myself
Until I burned out

Slammed myself into the walls over and over again
And broke so many times
Even my pieces were dust
Just so I had a reason to keep rebuilding myself
I became addicted to the forced rebirth

Eventually, I accidently created my own key
Through some act of self-deprecating alchemy
The open says me password to
Finally let me tear down my walls
A reason to be free
A reason to not be safe
A reason to smash my bejeweled cage

The secret genesis codex
Says to me
“Daddy, it’s time to wake up.”
And my kingdom falls