What happens after the end of all things? For three decades, I drank the Kool-Aid, colored inside the lines, and followed all the rules set out for me--as a woman, as a wife, as a mother. All for...nothing. Or so I believed. After it all came apart, I struggled for four dark years to purge the poison of other people's expectations from my life. This poetry is a peek into the pain of that transformation, but it also holds hope for better days ahead.
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