My name is spoken “May Lee”,

I was made in Salt Lake City,

But my parents almost called me Wednesday.

I was born on Monday, my legacy on Thursday.

 

My great grand mother died with a shot gun in hand

in a bedroom splattered with her late husband.

The cops weren't’t called, but the door was kicked in

Due to shrieking of the paid legs (still in bed with him).

 

She past a goodly woman.

Boot-legger, Cincinnati Moonshine was her poison.

Rouge, off road, thrown caution to the wind,

She took smack from no person-

Even pumped two bullets in the man

Who (attempted to) hurt her only son. 

 

She died, the third day after I was born,

but my father was so excited for her to see me.

From Salt Lake CIty to Cincinatti, he raced

to behold his first born to the woman of whom he was raised.

He made it by the memorial date.

 

The oldest of five girls,

she gave birth to three. 

One drowned , one gay, and one pregnant at fifteen. 

Never went to school, but wanted her daughters to get a degree.

They never did, but as her daughter's son's daughter:

Her dream lives with me. 

 

I'm the first of my generation,

the eldest of all the great-grand children.

I'm daughter of a substinance abuser in prison

and of a mother whose occupation I prefer not to mention.

I've lied 5 times and refused services of child protection-

 paranoid of a foster  with wicked "gurdians".

 

More than once, I've ran away for someplace safer,

or slept in the day because it waned hunger.

I was mute for two weeks because I bit my own tongue

when I was hit so hard that my ears rung. 

I wish someone would protect me with a shotgun.

 

At 16, when I finally had enough, 

I left the pain and was homeless for six months.

I hid at school and slept overnight

under a staircase, void of light.

I did my homework at school, and studied by night.

 

In May, 2015.

I will graduate high school with my Associates degree

No one can take that away,

and there's an old lady in heavan whose proud of me.