“Choices” by Breana Park

One Word


And my story

The one I chose for myself


One you have written for me


I am defined


Not by me

Not by my accomplishments

But by Him


To you,

I’m stupid

To you,

I should have known better


It doesn’t matter.                                                                                 It matters.

the hours I worked                                                                              My child

Sixty                                                                                                    Boy

the monthly bills I paid                                                                       My status

Four Thousand Three Hundred Twenty Six                                       Single

the classes I took                                                                                 My age

Thirty One                                                                                           Too Young


My choice



That’s all you see

When you look at me


There are only two roles in this game





But I

Won’t let you define me

Nor will I force you to understand


And for that

 I am Neither.

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