People, don’t make me beg for crumbs.

Don’t I deserve abundance, flowing and growing

Knowing that I need to be wrapped, swaddled in comforts I was denied. Perhaps you were, too. Perhaps the voices were not lullabies, but hushing and shushing your cries. What we needed became what they thought we should have. Or not.

Perhaps you say I love you too easily and not enough because the difference blurs, losing meaning with each entreaty when your need smashes  and gnashes with unmet hopes, unspoken desires, and unwavering belief you don’t deserve better.

Abundance terrifies, challenging these origins, these stories we told ourselves.

The cry for help should not require more, not paperwork or proof, not responses to commands or details. Not that you tried, but that you did.

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