I lie in bed and wonder
who I am.
“Volatile” rings through my ears,
abrasive, rash, unacceptably familiar,
it describes me
Did he know, when he said this, that
I described my mother in the same way?
Flashbacks of fights
I didn’t start, wars
I couldn’t win, breathes
I couldn’t take.
Did he know that I described
I am a free spirit who will fight until the end.
I will defend
I will stand up
no one else did,
No matter how much
I feel myself overwhelmed by fear.
Familiarity of her,
Despite my best efforts, Perhaps
Doesn’t fall far from the tree,