manufactured wings
I manufactured wings out of traumatic memories and broken dreams.
It seems the norm… staying invisible and weathering the storm.
Sometimes I barely made it to the other side, and I learned to hide
My real self
I don’t know who she is
My
Real
Self
I went back for her, though
Cause I know she deserves it.
Cause
She is worth every minute of pain that brought me here.
She lived in fear
Never a child, but born grown into the chaos
Of a house full of trauma
Our mama did the best she could…
I turned out good (as I brushed off my fit) and looked at my ancestors.
-pristina