Foster Child

If all you do is punish me
how can you ever see
as anything other
than a child

I never asked to live here
you sent for me
making every condition I lived in untenable
so I had no choice but to abide

you waited for me with open arms
until all other eyes turned away
and the first chance you got
I was reminded that this wasn’t my home

although you clothed and fed me
with just enough to differentiate from pet
never forgetting to remind me of the nuisance my being was
and you being the sole compassionate parent willing to take me in

you didn’t care that I stuck out like a sore thumb
as long as that check came
and I was held to standards unreasonable per my circumstance
being reminded that anything less than perfect made me less than person

but I was worth the stress, as long as that check came
and with every talent I had, and skill I crafted
you stole and claimed for yourself, enriching your life off my back
and still, you got your check and held me in check

as I write this, reminded of my life as a foster child
and also the history of my people in America
I kind of lost track of which I was referring to
both sound so eerily similar…

how can my upbringing
mirror my ancestors’ enslavement
but times have changed,
so be happy?

but all I’ve inherited is a modern struggle
that mirrors the pain of faces names and religions that mean nothing to me
because I can’t place them
although without them, there is no me

split from their parents
split from mine
taken from their kids
taken from mine

and the cycle repeats…
how can I be pressured with the responsibility of breaking it!?!

what kind of family is this
yet you wonder why my home is broken
I either came from a broken home
or America, you broke!