Wandering Child

I breathe the air of queens pastRespite I thought was sure to lastI was never meant to be your shadow to castYour tag-along you’d drag alongTo smoke cigarettes and talk cars all nightNo place for a child in your ragged lifeLet me speak my concessions while you hold the knifeBloodied

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Prayer of Questions

Is today the day? Has the time finally arrived when I say, “Enough is enough”? When I never look back? When I charge forward propelled with the same force that has held me back year after year, failure after failure…? When will it happen? Will I let it happen? Will

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Birthday Blues

It’s my mother’s birthday on Friday. I never considered her birthday to be a trigger for my childhood trauma, but alas it is. When I say childhood trauma, I’m not referring to physical abuse or sexual abuse, neither of which I have experienced (surprisingly, considering the amount and quality of

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The Other Scarlet Letter

A. A for abortion. This post is about abortion. So, if that is a topic that offends you or you feel strongly about, I’m telling you now: reading my personal opinion may ignite something inside of you. And to an extent, I hope it does. But we’re all adults so

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Sore, Not Soar

“Sometimes you have to find your wings on the way down,” I once heard someone say. Hopeful words if I hadn’t already hit the ground. Where did the problems I was born into end and the ones I created begin? What if it’s all the same, one continuum of a

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