i think about the generational trauma my body cares often (the pain of a million woman passed down)

If I never leave this town I will chip away at myself and let myself be sucked dry like my mother and her mother before me. I will marry a man who only wants to see me when my face is buried in sheets and the only words he will want to hear are the words of his own name slipping from my lips like he is my god.  My children will throw things and learn to be loud and angry. I will be surrounded by the walls of a house in unrest. A place where people’s love turns to venom aimed to kill. And if I ever tried to leave, I would be dragged back in by nails digging into my flesh, trying to tear me limb from limb, reminding me that this is the only home I have ever known.  And I would beg and plead on my knees like a christian in prayer for us to leave this holler. And they would probably stay right there, teeth gnashing and chomping, trying to get a morsel of me to have their own, and I would close my eyes and let them take hold.