Generational

My blood is disordered.

Generations of hatred and desperation are boiling over, burning to the touch like a fevered nightmare. 

Flowing from mother to son, father to daughter. 

A wildly neglectful, resentful river,

Rushing to blame and disgust. 

Pondering pain and mistrust.

Trickles of love overtaken, lost to animosity and turbulent waters. 

Gas lit and bubbles.

We navigate the troubles, because it is the only way across. 

Sharp rocks and tree branches,

Offer helpful cuts and pricks of pity as I enter, lacking love, leaving lacerations.

My engulfed skin is red like the ribbons in my hair.

There are streaks of unnatural purples and blues as dirty brown waters pull me in, unwillingly. 

What a colorful life.

I keep trying to fight against gravity,

against the natural order. 

Father unlike this daughter. 

Unwanted family ties and blood lines, wrapped around my ankles, like manipulative gifts. 

They pull me down, trying to show me, this is where I belong.

Waves of fatigue and taunts of 

you will never get free. 

With all the fight left in my body and a sharp rock. 

The line is cut, the ties are severed. 

Generations of hopeless tears and shaking fears, pouring off my body as I pull myself to the bank.

I am the only one here, the first to make it through the violent rivers and live. 

Now my blood only boils to rid me of the impurities of my kin.