Apathy

 Apathy

By Alexandria

All throughout trauma and their trees

How I cannot stand these weeds

Every bloodline soiled by lust or lack

Abuse to carry,

To cripple and make weary

For I have a theory

Our smallest are bruised

Purple, red, and blue 

Then expected to take

A different perspective,

A different view

So, we can send out little girls

Little boys

Broken and othered

To then break others

As they ache, ache, ache

For the love of another

To crawl into another’s skin

To leave all of their family’s sin

Where to belong,

Where to grow?

When this poison was rooted

Long before their birth

Bound to the generations before

To be a slave

To be a serf –

And what to fight for!

For the pride of a lover?

For the love of another?

All of the codependency,

And this awful, awful tendency

To suffocate and hide

Any shame and any fear

Then make humility

A sacrificial deer

If I am to be a mother

Will I take on the vices

Of everyone before?

How much am I,

How much are you

Bound to your bloodline’s life and lore?

Tales of never enough, tales of all and more the same

I’m an agent of the dead

I’m an agent of their old, old blame

My confidence is a Cryptid

I’ve named my shadows—

They’re cold and cryptic

I’m a Queen of Compromises

Wanting to sing the joys of the Carolinas

Yet made rotten

Yet born a Babylonian whore

I’m made the ugliest creature—

All at the fault of yore

Dressed scarlet, dressed immoral

Never did I learn my morals

No, I will claim an empty castle

Decorate it with empty finery

And call myself right and royal

We live in our homes of Avoidance,

Our conditioned Pavlov enjoyments

Something empty, something joyless

Running from the shadow

We can never see

Is simply ourselves and all the simple misery!

Then escape through burying ourselves:

Lost to liquors

Or lost to others as lost and lifeless

What a hollow victory

All the Chaos and the Contradictory

Of fearing self-inquiry

And living in the pitfalls

Of self-made injury

Hurry,

Hurry –

Or you will never escape

The judgment and jury

Created through centuries of violation

And centuries of a bloodline’s own perjury

If only the grown little boys and girls

Felt any and every rightful fury

But their souls are apathetic

And embracing their shadow?

Is much too pathetic

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