Homemade Poison

 

Hungry was my heart,
craving for love
I never received.
I blindly believed
whatever family gave.

I nibbled on nightmares
sugarcoated with hope.
I chewed chaos
while treading on
slippery slopes.
I guzzled cheap gratitude,
while gulping on guilt.
It was a recipe for disaster.
One, where your aptitude
was to serve the one & only master
who built
you a home, a career.

Now, you owe them –
your life.
So, you’ve got to eat
at the table where
generational toxicity
serves cold stares
that cut like a knife.
You’ve got to drink
homemade poison
or go to prison
where you live
on the brink
of somber times,
writing ungrateful rhymes.