Your words came a long way.
I think I gave them legs, I may
Have given them mine. By
Mistake. I didn’t fully understand
What I had done. I just wanted to
Help you. Help you out of your
Misery. Enable you to take new steps.
Towards life.
I incorporated your words.
I gave them more life through movement,
I ran away from them without knowing
That they had long lived stitched to my
Own vocal cords.
Your voices were fighting with mine
In my head and I thought that’s all me,
I am chaotic, I am destructive, I am falling
Apart. I scratch my skin until it bleeds, I have
Seen it elsewhere, I’ve seen her doing that, and
Her voices and the ones infiltrating her, the texture
Had been sewn, the faces mingled, skin within skin,
She had been done, for her it was too late, I’ve seen her
Die, in my mind, I’ve felt her there, fighting and losing
All battles and wars, I couldn’t allow your words
To tear down my white flags that I hold so close to my body.
Your voices needed life, to exist, to contaminate, to possess
And rob, you wanted me left with nothing, except endless
Apologies to you, endless fake gratitude, endless clinging to
You, blinded and silly, you never wanted me to grow up, taking
The credit for everything good, that I made work, after all, my
Victories you construed as yours, wanting me to be dependent on
You, thinking it’s all you, and my legs never felt like mine.
I allowed you to disconnect me from my own body.
To start the swallowing process from my feet upwards.
Abusing my hands, my mind, chasing the wrong people,
To feel the heel on my throat, again and again, you taking over,
One gutted life story after another, circles of shards, cracked mirrors.
Your words led to action.
Your actions became mine.
Your mental illness set root and rot within my body.
But something within me had always put up a good fight
That never seemed to end, that would never give up,
Never bow to the injustices done, always stepping up,
I let my own voices sing in choirs, father, I raised myself
As a loud daughter, louder than you, louder than the words
You shoved down my throat, I have always been more than
Ready to revolt and uproot what’s grown too comfortable
In my skin that has never been yours to begin with.

Yes! Take YOUR Peter Pan wings and fly over his resentment on you about his being clipped, eventually by himself! And, no matter to either or neither. It’s YOUR wings and your WAY that’s the gig now. Thanks for never stopping your fight to fully deflate.
I’ll share this from The Civil Wars which often brings clarity to the not-knowing that knows and acts and understands reasons are unreasonable once you do. Thanks again for not cowing to the ground, and then raising up the way you did/have. That’s valuable:
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