We are birthed from
flesh and bone.

We break the molds our parents built for us.

Mom and dad don’t you understand?

I’m no fool or puppet
to be controlled.

There’s no working mold,
it’s flawed and my life
is leaking from the holes.

The womd was worm and inviting, the world is
cold and fighting.

We come out surviving.

This life is demanding, grinding on flesh and bone,
until dust and ash remain.

You become dust in the wind,
a memory, a shadow of your former self.

Your memory is up to you,
what will you leave behind?

© 2020 By Amanda Shelton