Nuclear Family / Dysfunction

I feel as if it would have been

less harrowing if the slander was

fervidly spat in my face.

At least I would have known

there was a possibility that

the scarlet red veil,

which would have abridged reasoning,

seeped into your pores

and fueled you with an anger

that spewed a hyperbolic language.

 

Instead, you whispered it,

and every syllable coated the walls

of my heart

and left an irrevocable

stain on its

 

plain rouge.

The same rouge

that I tore from my chest

and clawed into the

 

naked wall

which you designed so dull and bare.

The same wall that you

scream at, in anger,

every night, begging that

The Lord will remove 

my stain of honesty

and revitalize this supposed

jovial existence of mine.

An existence which you wish

to encapsulate within your omniscient

 

hand.

This same hand

that built this

 

wall

for all to see.

The same wall

that you cringe at

if any

 

tinge of

diversity bleeds onto the wall.

The same tinge of diversity

that I identify with and

 

appreciate.

This same appreciation

that is slandered

by your spiteful

fork tongue.

The same fork tongue

that spoke the words

that coerced my eyes

to dissolve into a saline river

of depression and

coerced my hand

to find sanctuary

on the paper that begs for

my pains to be enumerated.

 

For my pains to be enumerated.

For my heart to find lax.

For my heart to find lax.

For my heart to find lax.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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