I was born in the northern lakes,
in a small winding wave
of unpleasant emotions.

To dream of me was a myth,
conceiving me an accident.

Yet they confide in me for comfort,
they drill me for being raw,
and take my goodness for grave abandon.

Their love is sensationalized,
asking for new leaves to shade them.

But growing up had never meant growth
and I keep on getting chopped up,
to light their dying embers.