“Choices” by Breana Park

One Word

 

And my story

The one I chose for myself

Becomes

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

DV-100

 

That’s all you see

When you look at me

 

There are only two roles in this game

Abuser

and

victim

 

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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