Apple/Tree

I was

raised

in a

storm of

silence.

I know the

crunch

of eggshells

on the

soles

of adolescent feet.

I suffocated

under grudges,

patriarchs

sulking on couches

emanating

pollution palls.

 

The legacy is a

funk,

my constant

struggle like

treading water in

a rip current –

drowning is

inevitable.

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