I am, By Blue Berry.


I Am
I am mournful and damaged. Broken.
I wonder if things would be different
if i had run away from home?
Would I still be broken?
I hear my mother’s voice blaming me
for my fathers drinking.
Dad telling me that
“My ass sucked wind”
(What the fuck does that mean any way?)
What a stupid thing to say!

I see the darkness, the tree. fog. smoking sky.
Tiny sparkles of light.
I want to feel better, to believe that better is attainable
I am mournful and damaged. broken

I pretend that I have a different life. different everything.
That my body is different. My mind is different.
Everything is different.
The country is different. The world is different.
I feel badly about how much I wish for this.

I touch the nothing that is around me.
I worry about everything. about breaking my own children.
It keeps me up at night.
what if it is too late? What if they are so broken they can not be fixed?
I cry not very often. tears are hard for me. Why bother?
It wont change anything.
I am mournful and damaged. broken

I understand I am loved. I matter. I can be whole
say fuck it all anyway.
I dream that life will be better for me my spouse
and my children
I try not to be my mom
I try not to be my dad
I hope it is working,
is it working?

I am mournful and damaged. broken

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