i'm scared that when I have kids
i'll parent just like her
or her
drugs and abandonment on one end
abuse and manipulation on the other
I don't know how to end the cycle
when I see myself in the reflection of both of their eyes

We were sitting in the park
I was six, my brother seven
I love you, she told us
Our once-a-monthly visit
That she missed more then she made
I'm working hard to get you back
I'm trying to stay clean
So you can come and live with me
I never told her what I really felt
So here are those words now
I needed you to save me
I needed you to want me
But I guess the drugs were a stronger force
Then the love you should have felt for your kids
Now I live in hell
And I swear its all your fault

Trashbags

At seven he had already moved more times than the total number of years he had been on this Earth
And this time, like the times before it, he moved with his belongings in a trashbag. Stolen clothes, stolen belongings.
A suitcase, at least, would have added a small degree of dignity, and confidence to the whole affair - to being "placed" in another and another and yet another foster home before reaching 3rd grade
Trash Bags break,  you know
Trash Bags can't possibly support the contents of any life, and certainly not a life as fragile as this

When I first was taken away
I didn’t like to speak
I had nothing left in me to say
My biding was done
So most days from sun up to sun down
I sat at the dining room table
Surrounded by large windows
Letting in natural light eliminating the house
I sat and looked out the windows
Facing out the to the East
The large field grew tall with unkept grass
The trees barely blocking anything
Green everywhere in sight
And horses
Real horses running around in their yard
Not a mile across
Spending hours sitting, looking out
I’m not sure what for
I wasn’t searching for anything
Just glancing out with scratched glasses
Not focusing on any one thing
Mostly using the time to think
If things went any different
If what it was, wasn’t
If what would be, wouldn’t
Doing so for almost three years
But it now feels like a waste
It didn’t change a thing
Foster care is still foster care in the end
Now a part of my past
Thank God it didn’t last
And thank you to my now parents
For the adoption

When we were younger and didn’t really know how the world worked, we heard the story of our parents going into a patch and choosing their baby.

I often tell my family that I went into a patch and choose them.

I need to break free from these binding thoughts holding me down and tearing me up mind and heart racing in sync wondering if I'll fly or I'll sink I'll probably fall attempting to jump this wall of insincerity living or dying its all just the same dates in some notebook no hall of fame live your life but not my way just yours I have no choice but to come when you call down at your feet is where I will fall drawing me in with false love and hope  controlling my life like I'm some sort of dope I am not finished don't interrupt me until I say what I say I'm using my voice I'm calling your name now listen to me or get out of the way

I miss you kid
Everyday
I miss your sarcastic comments
I miss the way you frustrate yourself doing your hair
I miss your obsessions
I miss our song
I miss dancing in my room to your cds
I miss fighting with you over stupid things
I miss your chipped nails
I miss your glasses too far down your nose
I miss your references
I miss knowing all your crushes
I miss teasing you
I miss you teasing me
I miss **** date or marry
I miss your goody two shoes side
I miss your rebel side
I miss how proud you were of yourself
I miss your old confidence
I miss doing your makeup
I miss laying down and looking at the clouds
I miss everything
I missed you growing up
I missed you changing
I missed you becoming who you're not
You're gonna be in seventh grade in 6 months
And I'm not sure if I'll be there to see you off
I just want to be back with you
It's so scary being alone at that house, I know
I'm so proud of you and I love you
Stay strong kiddo