When the Family says They Love Me
When the family says they love my money, but they do not love me, I let them.
Though the beatings on my back and the slaps across my face burn like a midsummer’s heat wave, I stay.
Because the family said they love me.
Though the chills of a thousand arctic storms flow across my face in the shed outside, I confide in them…
Because the family said they love me.
No matter the room they locked me in, no fresh air to breathe; like a butterfly trapped in a jar they refuse to let free, I STAY.
Because the family said they love me.
They said they love me…they love me…they love…my money.
They love my money.
And like the sucker fish on the edges of a fish tank, I stay because the fish may not love me, but I serve a purpose to them and they serve a purpose to me.
So, I stay…
Because I’m too afraid to leave, because if I’m set free who will be there to say they love me?
No matter the silent silhouettes of a thousand beating hands whispering sweet secret lies into my ear, I’m still here…
Like the butterfly stuck in a jar, I still flutter around glass bars. They don’t treat me right, but I stay put at night because I accept the love I think I deserve.
No matter the conditions, I don’t care if it hurts!
Does it hurt?
Because when the family says they love my money, but they do not love me, I don’t want to let them…
Because if you let the sun burn you on a heat wave it will hurt.
If you let the frost bite at your ears when you’re locked in the shed, it’s going to hurt…
If you trap a butterfly in a jar that’s unable to breathe and you refuse to let it free, do you think it’ll live long enough to tell you that it hurt?