If my Mama only sees anger in me? Then what? What does that say? Good question. I’ll answer you.
First I need to tell ya about me a bit. I’m adopted. And what that means is that I was born from one woman, and legally relinquished, meaning given away, or trafficked, as we call it today. I loved many years not realizing I was a victim of human trafficking. And it had a profound affect on me and my perceptions being raised by someone who lives as though I came from them.
Anger, can not even doctrine how I felt. It’s a mixed bag of madness, my life growing up like that. It was a wild ride of the brain. My constant to this living circus of mine, was Mama. I was not from this madness. I was adopted into this madness. This charade. I played. Sure. Mama wanted me too. I don’t have to like it all. Like anything. We have our likes and our dislikes. And the fact that I had to go through life like some clown with happy paint on my face cuz Mama thought it was a good idea when I felt like it sucked big ones, loomed over the whole parade. Rain rain.
Mama. Where the hell are you? I’m tired of this. I’m ready. Way over ready to end the nonsense of this. I want to play a new game with you in it. I’m angry cuz you don’t seem to see, I still need you.