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Lucky

lucky is my dads favorite word
the one he pulls out the moment i complain
the moment i start to appear ungrateful
that i am lucky
to be alive
have a roof over my head
have access to food, running water
i have to remind myself that i’m lucky constantly
lucky to be young
to be healthy
to have no pre-existing conditions
unlikely to be seriously hurt by it
lucky to have parents who can work from home
who had the money to stockpile necessities for the next few weeks
i’m lucky because i’m going to be ok at the end of this.
but i don’t feel lucky.
i’m lucky to be stuck in a house with a dad who cares more about his girlfriend,
his girlfriend who looks closer to my age than his
i’m lucky to be constantly aware of where the knives are
always on alert
because we have to keep them hidden from my baby sister
i’m lucky to have to scream silently when i have nightmares
because otherwise people will hear
because otherwise i’ll have to talk about things
that i want to leave buried
i’m lucky to be wracked with guilt
because somehow I’m most likely going to walk away from this
relatively unscathed
but i don’t deserve to
i’m lucky to be terrified
that someone i care about will contract it
someone who isn’t lucky,
someone who can’t fight it off
i’m lucky to be scared of the aftermath, when i’ll be there
but plenty of people won’t be
am i really lucky?

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