Remnants on The Mantle

I am not you,
just the remnants from
the mantle
of a deteriorating family,
whisked away by the man with
a crowbar and a blackening handle.
When we used to be a
threefold troupe,
and you stomped all over it
to crush the picture with your dirty foot.

It’s about time I rise up from
who you are.
I am so much more
than your deafening
resounds.
Bravery and risk taking
is who I am
and you are nothing
but the woman on the floor
crying over your spilled milk.
I am so much more.