It’s the context,
I’m that helpless child again, the child I fought to protect
Where am I supposed to go
At least when I was living in fear I had a home, I had hope. I had yet to learn the struggle of finding resources
Finding help, a key
A start without damnation
Having parents, parents being—them
My mom and her husband are the ‘parents’
The parents of Facebook,
Of claimed credit,
They can’t be honest
They can’t admit,
What they did, attacking a child
The child I was and the adult I am today cannot be subdued.
I’m a force of nature, I plan and execute, I fall without safety.
What’s the point of dreaming if it doesn’t control you.
Lucid dreaming, having control over the rest of unconsciousness.
Laying under mountains of covers, knee to armpit,
Wrapping my arms, anchored to my pillow
I housed my life there, beneath the cushions,
This uncontrollable humiliating dream.
There to claim their worth, self-validation. How nice.