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Raised by Cynics
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Learning from the Past I was raised in a family
that's the furthest
thing from one.
I wasn't "raised",
I was brought down
until I was buried.
There was no love there;
my heart doesn't even
know the meaning.
My blood runs black,
my soul tarnished
by my rusty roots.
I'm not their daughter;
I'm their slave,
shackled to their fault-finding.
Controlled by their words,
bound to their opinions
and confined to my mistakes.
I can run a million miles,
but I find myself
still at their will.
Stuck under their thumb,
crushed by the weight
of a damaged lineage.
Generations of cynics
and here I am
serving their sentence.
