The burden of hate lies upon my heart,
Like a rock embedded on a turtles back.
The relief of love only an echo from my fathers grave.
My mothers wishes of death thrown with force enough to tear away the idea of beauty in life.

A childhood memory,
My sisters playing a game
Where they have forgotten my name
And who I am:
Practice for future disregard.

When all you know is how to clench your fist,
How is it that you can let go of a rock that burns your hand.

Should I manage the wound may only be salved with life, love, and hope.