How should we do this?
Tell you about my faults?
Fears?
Mind killers?
Why should you care?
Apathy isn’t a super power
Any more than laziness is a skill
Languishing in pain
Waiting for someone
anyone
to notice me.
See me doing such a great job
Holding it together.
I don’t blame my mother
Any more than I blame her mother
Growing up in an sectional world
Living in a time
Witnessing crimes
People already spoke against
Ages ahead of my birth.
Why then?
Can’t I say it’s wrong
Still.

Progress is HARD
and SLOW
Especially that last bit
After the real conflict.
During the time children
Take for granted
Things my generation
watched happen.

Sometimes lack of conflict
Is characterized by the silence
I’m told to keep.
Others reject any semblance
Of what they used to resemble
And claim progress.

As if the shadow
Of who we are
Isn’t connected
To where we were.

Want to hear about my failures?