Not My Parents’ Carbon Copy

I Refused to Be Defined by My Parents

I am not the blueprint of their hopes,
a carbon copy, trimmed to fit their mold.
Their stories shaped me, but I rewrote the script
I am the ink that dries beyond their hold.

They named me, but the name they gave
was a cage I outgrew, bolt by rusted bolt.
Their love was shelter, but I craved the storm
a rebel sky, unafraid of thunder’s toll.

“You are ours,” they said, as if my veins held only echoes of their ancient roads.
But I carved new rivers in unmarked soil,
Where their fears dissolve and my freedom grows.

They see their flaws in my unflinching gaze,
Mistake my silence for their quiet shame.
I am not their guilt, nor their second chance
I am the fire no shadow can reclaim.

Let them keep their trophies of the past,
The brittle accolades they think I owe.
I’ll build my triumphs from unyielding dust,
A self-made forged in ways they’ll never know.

Blood is a thread, not an anchor’s chain.
I refused to drown in their unfinished wars.
Judge me by the life I’ve clawed from night
not the ghost they made, but the dawn I tore.