"family."

I have had this rug pulled underneath my feet before numerous times that it has begun to feel like home. There were no floorboards underneath. The rug somehow was sturdy enough to hold me, but my sensible feet could sense the heavy and tensive suspension beneath them. What a grand illusion. This rug being built cautiously by bloodline hands; laced with unforeseen malice intent. The same bloodline hands that's supposed to be thicker than water. But that's all I've been thrown into. Is water.

I to this day never understood the reason for my submission to nothingness. Familiar love stripped. Security and Tin roofs taken. Makes no sense. Was I not supposed to have a normal life? All my choices somehow circle back to a mirror that faces me... I recognize the man in the mirror. I see his inner child. Fragile and bare. I still hold her with grace. I see her and I don't change her since she was so pivotal to my growth. I hope there's a rug I can craft someday. Beautiful and detailed. But the floorboards will be made by the frames of broken mirrors and failed opportunities from bloodline hands to be alongside me to witness my craftsmanship.