Baby Boar lies in his bed
thoughts of hate in his head
hate of the harsh world breaks the seals
though he is scared to show what he feels
Mama boar hears his cries with a fright
breaks through the door into sight
holding him tight she sits on the floor
Baby boar won't need to cry forever more

I watch my mother beg for love by God ,
The same way I begged for her love once

We are quite similar ,
Longing for something that is not there

Expect she looks up to a God ,
And I look up to my mother

Miss hoodoo mother bake me a pecan pie
I’ve been gone for too many Christmases
Blood soaked magnolias splayed before white linens
Smell of a fire just stifled out, stifled out by blood
Cheeks still glistening when I came in the kitchen
“Are you searching for something or running from it?”
Fields crowned in white, soil fertilized with sweat
With heartbreak
You’re fertile, the warmth envelopes me
The birthplace of something blue, something used
I can’t say when I’ll be back again, the road is long
I’ll keep your song with me, chords of pain and comfort
Your scars are visible at the supermarket, whispered about
Billboards of turmoil everyone drives by
Lips ache for a taste of your lemonade nonetheless
I think about my time in that home, in my home
If I should have boarded that casino boat
What number would those dice land on
The one thing that I did wrong

They are ours.

The still small, smiling, crying
laughing, angered, forever hungry
Except for when its time to eat
Children.

Your children from your hips
My children from my *****

The answered prayers.
That flit to and fro
Fast and slow.
The sleepless nights
And late mornings
And causes of worry
And constant delight

We made those.

I try to let you in.
But
You have a habit of letting me down.
I try.
Over
And over.
And it’s never enough.
I tell myself
“Tomorrow will be different.”
And every day
I wake up defeated.
Why?
Because you never change.
And you expect me to be like you.

I’ve been a marionette on your strings,
Acting like your perfect little girl.
But I’m not little anymore.
No.
I’m just tired.
Tired of mothering your kids.
Tired of being the punching bag for problems that never concerned me.
Tired of being nobody in your eyes until you need me.
Tired of being needed.
I just want to be.
Enough.
I want who I am.
To be enough for you.
The way it is for me.
I want to do nothing,
And still be told “I love you.”
I don’t want my worth to be measured by the amount that I give.
Otherwise I'd be worthless.
Because I have nothing left.
Why?
I gave it all to you.

And nobody would ever see it.
What goes on in our walls.
But I walk down the halls,
At school.
Where nobody suspects.
Because it’s me, Lil.
I’m chill and friendly and non confrontational.
I’ve got a great fam..
Right?

Yeah.
Right.

I hear you in my head.
While you text me all hours of the day.
Informing me of just how much I disappoint you.
You beautifully serenade those paragraphs.
But conveniently
you never seem to pick up when I call.
I didn’t know parenting was optional when you had kids.

I wish you thought having kids was an option.

Maybe you wouldn’t have had them.

I’m glad that you’re trying your best.
But that means nothing to me.
When your best doesn’t meet minimum standards.
My expectations are not high.
All I ask is that your knees scrape the basic levels of care.
That.
Is all I ask.
I don’t ask you to take me places.
Or buy me things.
Or drive me.
Or pick me up.
Because the amount of times I used to wait.
Hours after my friends were picked up.
And the teachers would offer to drive me home.
But I just sat there on the pavement,
not knowing which house I was going to end up in for the night.
Because somebody's mother forgot about them.
Why would I ask anymore?
Why would I hold on to false hope?
To make you feel better?
Maybe you don’t feel sorry.
Because you're not the one paying the price.
Price of what? You ask.


Of not being loved.

You accuse me of all the blame,
Ignoring your own mistakes,
Trying to belittle me with words,
"Don't burn the bridge that leads you home."

Once, it seemed you were on my side,
Until things went askew.
You urged forgiveness, yet blamed me
For how everything fell apart.

For 22 years, I held it all in,
My smiles strained and false around him.
I voiced discomfort, but you kept him close,
A room for him always next to mine.

You delight in tearing me down,
"He gets that from you," you said,
When my brother spoke of his pain.
Your love, I question deeply,
Unable to even change your mind
About something as simple as cutting grass.

I find more reasons to resist returning,
I was enslaved by your expectations,
Yet I found the strength to break free.
Returning now, I fear,
Would bind me once more in chains.