We are looking for the homes that we never got.
Hanging onto banisters saying ' don't break on me'
We are dating men that are hurricanes like our fathers screaming 'please take me'

We have picket fence splinters sharding our hearts...
Screen doors slamming,
Foundations that are falling apart
We are products
Of broken homes,
Abuse
Trauma
We are sorry for things outside of our control
We buy pets and have babies
Please love me better than my mother
We plant pieces of our hearts in flower gardens,
And hide our dignity in the rain gutters
The furnace is broken
We keep warm by the stove
What the fuck are we doing?
None of us knows.
We cry chipped paint,
we get high on the led
We are fixers, we are broken
We are scared
To fucking death
We are tired
We are beaten,
Long hours left awake
in our hastily made beds
-Mae