Shaky

My aunt always used to tell me that I will never keep anything because everything breaks at a certain instability, and I possess that instability. Enough intelligence to build a thousand bricks, and more than enough anger to make them fall. I, the perfect vibration.

Contingencies for when I may become unsound,
Unwound,
Unbound-
By the expectations of those who care for me,
I was completely free,
From the shackles of normality,
The oddity scorned for differences,
I could never hold beauty still in my trembling palms,
Fragility of innocence shattering in my hands,
I knew for a fact I was the forever damaged.

My father always defined the man, strong, protective, and big. Higher than boy, equal to woman but lower than God. He demonstrated the power of embracing abnormalities in character, nothing was unacceptable. He showed expressively rights and wrongs and decried what it felt like to be victim to people’s rationalizations of said wrongs. He made sure that I-

Could stand without destroying the base to which my feet rest,
He showed me that I was the only person I needed to truly impress,
He showed me cavalierly endurance in horrid distress,
And made me truly discover that the shaking stops….when I think less.

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