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Ink Salvarion

By Gabriela Leon


I wrote my way out

Of the bullshit I was burdened with;

Of a mother who would punish me

Who did more than merely hit me.

I wrote my way out

Of the drowsiness of depression;

Of the long afternoons spent

Sitting in my bathroom with a razor in my hand.

I wrote my way out

Of the silence that haunted my apartment;

Of the dullness in my father's eyes

When my mother blamed me for her departure.

I wrote my way out

Of the dull ache in my legs

Of the criss-cross bumps on my calves she left.

When I told her I could pay for school,

Do it all without her.

I wrote my way out

Of the gag she put in my mouth

Of the weight of everything I couldn't say

When I was too ashamed to speak.

I wrote my way out

Of the anger

Of the pain

Of the shame.

I wrote my way out

Of the scars my mother left.

I rose out of them as though they were

Mounds of soil where the seeds of me

Were laid, waiting for the sun.

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