The first steps taken on a bed of a wooden prison
Where my knees buckled and warped
The unsturdy padding offered little support
I still walk funny because of it.

Those cautious steps out the door when I was 8
Into a suburban mystery at 4AM
My Barbie nightgown clinging to goose ridden flesh
Until a blue and red picked me up and took me home

The scattered steps of fear as my feet scraped wood
A calloused hand socked my shoulder into the refrigerator
A cold glare and booze reeking maw met my eyes
As his spittle flew out of his mouth and on to my cheek

The uncertain steps I took on that back porch
The day I was asked the eternally changing question
Of what I at 14 thought was best for our family
And I, told the truth. One of my biggest regrets.

The begrudging steps to his truck two years later
Torn from my siblings on a scorching day in...