I’m a product of an old drunk
Madly and toxically,
My mother and father
Stormed each others lives,
Yelling, punching, throwing their children around,
And hitting our heads against the wall
Of the unstable single-wide trailer down by the river
On the train tracks of Eastern Kentucky

I’m a product of several dads,
Several strangers,
And cut-out hearts with crayons and magnets
To display for the next one

I’m a product of bad touch
And not being quite sure if that was trafficking
But knowing their were drugs involved

I”m a product of old truck drivers who drank too much bourbon
And hit the kids a little too much
In the old cement building next to the bar
In the rundown town you drive past

I’m a product of the hidden hollers,
The old farmhouse where torture happened 
And tears ruined my favorite shirts ‘cause I chewed out their necks

I’m a product of the only sweet old man in my life 
That belly laughed and watched cartoons,
But I’m pretty sure he knew what Nanny was doing

I’m a product,
I was scanned,
Passed around,
And thrown in the trash

I’m no longer a product