This soul was vapid.
A product of loveless lovemaking,
The girl child spent youth watching her mother
Take care of other people.
Enable other people.

Having been put on the back-burner
to simmer on low,
She began to raise herself.
Growing inward – shy, quiet
a b o o k w o r m
A nerd with one friend who was also a nerd.
Heroin needles under the sofa.
Raging drunk beating down the front door.

This was normal,
everyone grew up like this.

And then….something…..
No longer a shy quiet bookworm –
A simmering pot
if forgotten long enough
will eventually begin
to bubble
and burn.

Now filled with armor,
an armor of rage
of sarcasm
of “I’m fat but I’m funny.”
She spent her teen years in this state.

An unnatural ebb and flow of weight,
Brought her into her twenties.

A marriage.
A daughter.
A reason to find God.

Heavy with love.


About jonnealscott

Wife.Mother.Poet.Artist. View all posts by jonnealscott

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