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& it just kept .. on.

I was 17.

I’d had surgery not long before the summons.

They’d removed a lump from my breast.

& It still hurt.
I still hurt.

‘wean the baby off the breast .. so there’s no milk ..’, had been the doctors orders.

I did it.
Apparently it was for ‘our’ health.
.
I wore all black to court.

I was Nervous.
Actually my chest was so tight I could hardly breathe.

I walked into the dusty old room with the tables arranged in such a way it suggested I wasn’t there for a light chat & cuppa tea & I was gonna lose, no matter what I said or did.

I listened.

Watched & Listened.

Noone Looked at me though.
Not actuals at me.

They browsed my face.

That’s how they roll though. Browsing.

Same people I persumed lived in those pretty houses. that don’t come out for beaten brown womxn.

@ court, when they had finished pillaging my character & personhood, I walked out & I was no longer a mama.

I was half a mama.

Joint guardianship or something like that, is what they declared.

it meant Id have to continue swallowing my voice. Noone was interested in truth here.

I guess I’d thought up until then, that it was surely going to get better.
That Jesus Christ wasn’t really this fucken cruel.

But I was wrong.


kpm©

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