Author Information
Armand
Maybe Armand wasn’t much of a slave
Once he found a master who loved him.
Maybe not all of my lines are complex,
But if you read all of my lines,
You’ll see the complexity.
I want to rescue my whole family,
But my family fears heroes.
It seems to them that heroes want something in return.
Maybe you get to keep your life
But when you’re a little girl
And violated like that,
Maybe you wish God would take your life.
I know my father has some little girls,
He made them while his son
Was being raised like a little girl,
Because he didn’t have a father.
He was raised by an aunt, who loved him,
Who was raised to fight.
So she fought with him
And expected him to know she loved him.
She bought him a card
And wrote that he was her son,
Then she got on the phone
Speaking to some third person
“I have no children,” she said.
She looked up from the phone
Daring him to challenge her.
So yeah, I speak of myself in the third person,
Because who the fuck am I?
Her savior
Because I was there when she needed one?
Or a burden,
Because I was there when she needed one?
And maybe he isn’t really a slave,
He just hopes this one loves him.
