The Cons of Making It to Thirty

With my knees on the floor.
Elbows to the mattress.
Forsaken lovers dance.
Across the lids of my eyes.

I’m not a sinner.
I just came from confession.
One Act of Contrition.
Three Hail Mary’s.

I’m not a heartbreaker.
I came home alone.
One bold, red tattoo.
Three feet of severed hair.

My eternal penance.
For a broken word.
Is a ball and chain.
With a broken lock.

I paid for individuality.
With a happy home.
And unborn children.
The condemnation of freedom.