I donít have flashbacks, my days are still,
But deep down inside, I scream and I shrill;
People always say, ďI never seen you mad,Ē
Thatís ícause I donít want to make you sad;
I donít want to make you truly understand,
The burden of loving a soul you canít stand;
Imprisoned and chained into playing a role,
And having no purpose or meaning or goal;
Husband or father? Donít know which one,
Any male roleÖjust anything but a son;
Open my mind and Iíll take you for a ride,
See how much shitís been deposited inside;
In trying to be sane, Iíve discovered the insane,
The voice of reason now eludes my brain.
I donít have nightmares, my sleep is sound,
But darkness and evil within me abound;
Iím like a container assigned for waste,
Toxic and poisonous in smell and taste;
A sponge that soaks up all that is bad,
A curse for which Iím supposed to be glad.
I was never violated, penetrated nor raped,
But layers of my body have surely been scraped;
Tiny little things that make my skin crawl,
Make me freeze like a silly wooden doll;
Day in, day out, a touch here, a touch there,
Before I know it, itís more than I can bear;
No doubt, each instance of abuse is small,
I agree, they hardly seem to matter at all;
But please, believe me when I say this to you:
The tallies add up, and Iím suffering, too.
I was never tortured, tied up nor bound,
But part of my soul had surely been drowned;
For delivering oneís love with all oneís hate,
Destroys the recipient under a crushing weight;
Amidst the feelings of an insatiable rage,
One must contain all his anger in his cage;
Expected to endure manipulation so vile,
And love the abuser with a spark and a smile;
Demands to swallow dumb lies and believe,
And continue to function, trust and achieve;
I swear on my life, I tried to resist,
But all I feel is that Iíve ceased to exist.
It now seems obvious, the terms of this deal:
I must relinquish my freedom to feel.
I was never held nor overpowered by force,
But guilt then plagues me: did IÖendorse?
So long, I believed in her mantra of ďloveĒ,
As if her calling had descended from above;
Fervently supported by those without eyes,
How could I see through such crafted disguise?
Truth was blocked through implanted guilt,
A bubble of lies that was carefully built;
I was ďspecialĒ, one who truly understood,
Devoted and warped, Iíd do anything I could;
Remnants of grooming still remain within me,
For lies so ingrained are difficult to flee.
I was never threatened with pain or death,
But often, I wished for it under my breath;
My mind is flooded with poisonous foam,
The rage within me has found no home;
A part of me wishes to throw her in jail,
But Iíd be that dumbass who gets her on bail;
And whatís the point of even trying?
To call her a criminal would actually be lying:
Her acts arenít crimes: a hair off the mark,
So here, I sitÖand I holler, and I bark.
It was not so long before I could deduce,
That behind this monster, hid a past of abuse;
And herein lay the source of my demise:
Compassion and sympathy for one I despise.
I know it's hard for some to believe,
That someone like me could cry and grieve;
I know it sounds stupid to love and hate,
You're probably thinking I can't think straight;
But things right now are so fucking grey,
I'm having some trouble finding my way.
I still want to belong to this herd:
I just want my story to be heard.
"Only the solitary seek the truth, and they break with all those who don't love it sufficiently." - Boris Pasternak, Doctor Zhivago