As soon as they knew I was coming, 

They made a list of hand-me-downs I would be inheriting, 

I wasn’t allowed to choose, I wasn’t here yet. 

If I could, my choices would be much different, I bet. 

The dresses and the bassinet,

The family name and my parent’s old cabinet. 

The religion I follow and the place where I worship 

Handed me down their beliefs – the good, bad and the aversive. 

I accepted it as my own, if not, I was subjugated, 

Tied with the list, I didn’t know your traumas too were mandated. 

Your wounds weren’t your fault, but neither were they mine, 

Yet you handed it down, like it was an old bottle of wine. 

If you were hurt, I wasn’t the cure 

Yet you brought me here, how you’d handle it, you weren’t sure. 

Now I blame myself, for everything that happens to me,  

Along with your unfulfilled dreams, you handed me down your low self-esteem. 

When I was bullied, 

You asked me to deal with it, 

You gave me the tough talk, 

When I desperately needed a hug.

I kept telling you, I wasn’t okay. 

I’d cross bridges with one leg when I was your age, you’d say. 

I’m sorry you were alone in dealing with your struggles, 

But I’m a muggle, who needs support in their troubles. 

You handed me down your willpower and strength, 

But your mental scars came with it as a combined shipment,

You handed me down your morals and stories, 

I’d rather had you hand me your lessons, and how you changed with it. 

Not saying you are the reason for my wounds, 

I’m sure you did the best you could. 

But you could have helped me heal as you should, 

Instead you pushed me off the plane without a parachute.

I fell straight to the ground, miraculously breathing, 

In the middle of nowhere, barely surviving, 

I lie down in despair, waiting to be rescued. 

Hoping it will be you, so we can start over soon.