Poem by Dana Young
I feel like I don’t have much value
Or purpose to you.
Except as your legs
To walk all over the house and outside,
Endlessly running errands, getting
Whatever you want and need,
An ear to hear all of your thoughts
Spoken aloud,
A voice, only when you don’t want
To talk to certain people or
Make business calls so you’d
Rather I speak for you.
Hands to grab whatever you want
That’s within your reach but you’d
Rather call me from far away to
Bring it to you.
Eyes to see ahead into the future
Or to somehow see what you want
Before you ask.
And a nose to smell whatever meal
You want me to cook or buy.
A heart to be broken by your cruel words
And actions, then restored,
Only to be broken again.
Lungs to breathe in your toxic mindset
And internalize it until it becomes
A part of mine.
My body and my time is not my own.
Just a combination of parts
to be used at your will.
Whenever you want something done,
No matter if I am asleep or awake.
Exhausted or in pain.
I feel like I don’t have much value
Or purpose to you.
And every day you prove it.
Poetic Blueprint 