You grew up aspiring to one day be someone else’s possession, it’s not a wonder that Now the only value you see in others is monetary.
I don’t, blame you, living in a community that measures your worth by your chore amounts and how far backwards they can bend you to their will,
You didn’t have a choice, I’d like to believe, you didn’t have a say in whether or not you could exist outside of others.
Now they stand and ask you how you cannot stand for yourself when they left you crawling,digging their boots and heels into your back
Making sure you knew your place.
You began to search for people who kept you there
In your “place’ beneath their boots and heels digging still, into your back
You searched for purpose
You became a servant and commodity all at once
Like you had purpose but were dispensable, replaceable, nothing of…value.
A possession without an owner, you searched for those who could break you
I don’t…blame you…you were taught to be silent, accept pain, as if you were born to endure the miseries of others
You shouldered their struggles, carrying them as your own.
It became fair that they paid you for your time, your struggle, you began to crave material compensation
An object treasuring only your own kind, it was because they knew what it was like to be used, wasn’t it?
You no longer identified with us, people became a means,
The object, you, became the user, the object, you, the pawn pulling the strings
I guess that’s what happens when you are taught to aspire to one day be someone else’s possession
It stops being a wonder that the only value you see in others is monetary
And how can they blame you when this is what they made you.
By m_Y Broken Mind