bootstraps

The following poem is addressed from millennials to the generations before us and the cycles of hurt we seek to break and heal from.

We are the individuals breaking generational curses
Today’s teachers, doctors, and nurses
Forged out of souls oppressed from the first
Breath heavy like I’m stuck in a coffin in the back of a hearse
Putting pen to paper is the only safe space in my verses

And worse is?

Pride is hard to come by from those who came before us
Struggle, scrape, and strive just to watch them ignore us
Makes you really wonder if they were ever really for us
What else do we have to give when we don’t have any more of us

I feel like a tourist

Look but don’t touch
You’re doing too much

In but not of
Perspective focused above

Taste and see

“But you’ll never be”

Experience, but don’t feel
Live, but never own

I know this body is just a rental
But you’ve got me going mental
When all I can do is conceal
Because my truth has no appeal

You expect my respect
And I’m going into debt
For paying something I don’t have

But I’m really quite glad
To break the chains
Attached to names
That only drove me mad

You taught us that you have to give it to get it
And don’t you regret it
And wish we would forget it
That with the tables finally turned we would show grace and let it go?

This isn’t just for show
We want you to grow
This love we have to give
Is also love that’s earned

See us
Hear us
Know us
Trust us

All we ever really wanted was to be let in
To have a seat at the table
And be someone to confide in

It’s not always the sin
That we wrestle with from within

But acknowledging the parts
Played in injuring our hearts
That makes all the difference

In healing the hurt