Carrying inherited weight

A coat too heavy for my shoulders,

draped from the chair—scratchy,

too big, like their voices

pulling me down.

"Have you settled?" they ask,

words thick as wool,

pressing cold against my skin.

I wear their plans,

stitched tight with old ambitions,

shoulders hunched beneath the strain,

till breath is just a shallow promise

I can't keep.

But this coat won't shrink,

no matter how much I wish it.