Dear woman who

brought me into

this

wicked life,

 

I don’t know you

anymore and

I’m too scarred

to want to

know you anymore.

 

I’m as great as

you intended

me to be—

not great

at all.

 

Sure I’m gifted

but those are

gifts from God.

The rest

are gifts

from you.

 

For example, your words.

I still hear

them

often.

Too often.

Like I said,

I’m scarred.

 

How long will

you unwanted gifts

last?

I’m ready to shake

them away

for good.

 

But you intended

for me to

remember

you.

You like that almost

a decade has passed,

and I’m still

writing

un-love

letters

to you.

 

Don’t worry.

You’ll never, ever have

to read them.

 

Love,

Your Wicked, not-child