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Untitled
The way they all said they wanted me.
A kid,
You fought over a kid.
You flattered,
Bragged,
And bartered.
I was a kid,
I still am a kid
You put so much pressure on me,
To be this figure you created.
No one asked me who,
Or what I wanted to be.
I was pushed,
And steered,
And molded into
Someone I never wanted to be.
And when I started to break away from my constraints,
You got tired of me.
Like an old favorite toy,
You put me in the donate box.
To go from being used everyday,
To collecting dust on the free shelf,
I didn’t know who I was.
My worth no longer felt worthy.
I relate to the old favorites,
The once booming,
The once loved,
The once everyone had to have it.
The fads that came and went,
That’s how I feel.
And it’s so damaging,
Even if we come back,
It’s never the same as it was.
Comments
Geezer
Tue, 2022-08-02 09:09
I get your...
message! How about 'Divorced' for a title? You have made a very solid case for counseling parents as to applying pressure to children to choose. I think that unless there is some compelling reason as to why a parent shouldn't/couldn't care for a child at least a good portion of time, they shouldn't be forced to choose. You did a great job in writing so that the reader feels the emotion of this piece. ~ Geezer.
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Rosewood Apothecary
Tue, 2022-08-02 12:20
I was thinking
“Donation Box” might make a decent title. That was the line that resonated strongly with me as a reader.