since when did you care about what your parents wanted,
their trembling hands clutching dusty photo albums,
dreams for you etched in whispers,
like the fine print on a warranty you never read.
smart, they said,
smart enough to untangle the wires,
but never the knots in your chest.
immortal—they wanted you invincible,
a timepiece that slowed down
only for holidays and funerals,
never noticing...
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