Drowning In This Ink

the soul is a heavy thing. have you ever noticed
how people can drown but a dead body just floats?
take a minute to let that sink in (no pun intended).
they say the body is a complex thing but 
have you ever questioned the soul? 
the scars of the body are visible but the depths
of wounds to the soul are like nightmares
in your mind. i have this little scar on my wrist,
not noticeable unless i point it out to you.
i wish i had a badass story to go along
with that scar, but i dont. i think i had a wart
there as a kid and the skin never really healed properly.
the soul doesnt heal. my mother
used to 
lock me in the basement when i was 
forced me to read and write because i wasnt 
as "academically inclined" as the other
kids in kindergarten. i broke the record 
for most time spent in the time out chair.
its silly that i have abandonment issues
because i know parents have to let go of their
child at the door of the classroom but just once,
i wanted her to turn around and take me home in her arms. 
maybe i should say thank you because 
my words are a bigger person than she'll
ever be. this ink is my home and i'm never
going to apologize for it. this empty space 
in my soul where the heart should be writes
poems just to spite you. thank you mom, 
thank you. dont ever tell me i dont have manners.
This poem is about: 
My family


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