Inherited Burdens

I dug through old papers, found Mom’s debt note,

its ink curled and faded, still sharp in its hope.

Each line held a weight like a storm that won’t break,

dragging my heart, every promise at stake.

When my bank statement flashed, it felt like a shroud,

a reminder of choices I couldn’t be proud.

Her whispers are ghosts, still echoing pain,

a lineage of burdens I carry in vain.

This legacy lingers, it festers and swells,

histories written in unpaid hotel bells.

Yet there’s love in those letters, however unsure,

an understanding heart that helps me endure.