I found the transcript,
All my transgressions
Sat heavy in the bottom
Of the ottoman you left out
On the porch when the hurricane came.
And next to that, a toy
Spot, as he was once called,
Risen once more to claim
The key of my death,
Of all that was once white and innocent.
I can read between the lines,
I've become an expert at that
And I know what she meant
When she placed these together
Like a time capsule of my fall from grace
She never wanted me anyway.
The History: My only crime, was that I thought I loved someone much older than myself. My brother came home from the military, and created unnecessary conflict. He coached my mother to have the man I was seemingly in love with arrested and I blamed myself for his lost years. I always knew her actions were correct though my feelings were unwavering. That's what young love does. She always told me I, "Chose a man over my own family" all the while leaving me without proper medical treatment, or food or care to go out with men she was seeing. She was a bar fly that never married.
After abandoning me for a short while as a child to party here in Florida, she took me back and we moved here permanently. She took me from my father to spite him. She wanted me to take care of her when she was dying. Made me promise I would my whole life. I loved her through all of the abuse.
I wasn't there when she passed though. I never expected her to go so suddenly. And when I went to her home, I found the courtroom transcript of my greatest trauma placed with my very first toy from childhood. The one she placed in my crib at birth. One last dig from beyond the grave.
