I am my father's daughter
the apple of his eye
that didn't fall too far from his tree
the fruit of the same loom
that I use to weave my web of lies
always shady
like I'm perpetually standing under those branches

I am my mother's daughter
her second cracked egg
that should have grown into a dove
but came out a vulture instead
didn't need a nudge to leave the nest
I was first to fly the coop
a free bird
while the others flew straight into a cage

Now the tree went up in flames
and took the nest with it
and I'm starting to think that
maybe
I was a Phoenix all along
and from the ashes
comes the new soil
that I need
to grow.


*s.mndi