I wonder what it feels like to be you,
To experience the level of pain that have had to endure.
To live the life that you lived.
To have the daughters that you did.
To see the mistakes that we have made,
Despite any warnings that you had tried to give.
To watch us throw away our favor,
For the love of love and sex.
To watch a man take over our bodies.
An urban exorcism.
We are phantoms of
The little girls that you birthed.
What does it do to your heart
When you hear how we valued ourselves
Based on the appeal
Of what is between our legs?
How did your heart survive
To see us weighted down?
Carrying the seeds of someone
Who would never consider us as family?
How did you soul recover
Watching someone that you created out of nothing,
Return to the dust from whence we all came?
How can your faith remain unbothered,
As you watched the child who remained
Destroy herself through grief’s good friends?
Sometimes I wonder
What it is like to be you.
So that I could truly understand what I have
Before I don’t have it anymore.
Before your answers to my questions
Are just figments of the past.
Before I am mature enough to realize
That my future is your past.
That my mistakes are your mirrored past.
That I hurt you, by living my life.
That I hurt you by being the same.
That you are fearful
That my destiny will be unchanged.
Buried in a hole
But still alive
My own daughters wondering
How is it that i have survived.
I don’t want us to be this way.