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Growing up, we were always sold
on the promise of better tomorrows
that some magic morning
we’d awaken to find
the slate wiped clean
Where everything would have a sense of purpose
and no one would ever fuck with us again

I didn’t believe in God or magic or miracles
but I wanted to
The best that I could come up with were
the rare and random moments
when the stars aligned and shit went my way for once

It’s tough to reconcile the fucked up shit
against the way you’d like things to be
When you’re a kid, you just don’t know any better
and things like refilling mommy’s wine glass
until she passes out on the couch
lit cigarettes still burning in her hand
or daddy stumbling home from the VFW
with half an unfinished 40 stuffed in a brown paper sack
as he sidles up to the dinner table
are completely normal

On some level, I knew something was off
but I tucked it away, down deep inside
until only the self-loathing and self-destructive remnants remained
When you’re white trash,
you do everything you can to deny it
But the kids in school are too smart to ignore it
The stink of hangovers,
second hand smoke
and trash bag hand-me-downs
can’t be covered up

Like sharks drawn to a drop of blood in the water
they swarm
though not as mercifully
as their torments last for 12 years straight

Growing up is so blindingly cliche of being stuck
between a rock and a hard place
that the metaphor should be bronzed and retired
its jersey number forever hanging among the others
in the arena of humanity

In the quiet moments
where I’m washing dishes
looking through the fogged kitchen window
into the bleakness
into nothing
as mom snores away on the couch
exhausted from another day of fucking her boss
and dad sits quietly reading another book about Hitler
I wondered if I’d ever get away

Even in those moments
I didn’t know yet that I was already damaged goods
and that even if escape were possible
a new life would be tainted
That even if I could swim out to new waters
the stink of white trash would never wash away
and the sharks would always find me