Generational wealth 

Every story needs their villain
Mine bore me for nine months
Dug her own grave—
To put food in our mouths

Lace and silk filled my closet
She emptied her pockets for more
Dragged us out to dress like wealth
In diamonds and pearls we loaned

I vowed to walk a different path—
But found her trapped inside my mirror

Published by Blues without Clues

I write what I can’t say out loud.

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