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Deconstructive Criticism (T. Lucio) - Slam Poetry

I always heard “you shouldn’t do this” or “don’t act like that”
Be this and not that.
Why are the people that should love me unconditionally, giving me a manual on how to be?
Can’t they see that I’m struggling to find what’s wrong with me, because I am not perfect like my family.
All a young boy wants to hear from their mommy is a “good job” or an “I love you son”
But just for fun, they would say “Why did you do this” and “Don’t do that again.”
I never wanted to speak because I know I would never hear the end of their constant judgments.
My mind was like a jigsaw puzzle that would reset and I would have to do it over again.
Every comment and concern from them would reset my challenging puzzle.
Years later I couldn’t keep it together and broke my muzzle.
Each piece scattered and lost forever.
I spiraled out of control
Drinking booze and smoking pot until I couldn’t remember.
That’s how bad it got.
But I was always happy in that place.
A place where I knew I could feel warm and cozy.
I never got that feeling from my mommy.
There was no such thing like that with her.
It wasn’t in her DNA to feel that way.
No hugs or kisses could heal the scrapes and bruises that were left to scab
No tears could be wiped away that have already been dried by the air alone.
I know she doesn’t regret it, for I never heard a ring from the phone.

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