For All The Abused Children

Early this morning a guy my age
swinging scissors, long knife,
ran into the local police station


Not knowing who it was
he wanted to kill.

I know the demon in me
is stepfather, what he wants,
know I'm not responsible
for what he’s done to me.

Indelible emotional scars
from when a baby, child, teen,
he’s at the center
demanding I obey his evil.

I feel he’s always behind me,
watching ready to attack

I feel I am always doing something bad

I feel I will be punished for everything
good I do

I feel I must do everything in a hurry
before he finds out and takes whatever
I am doing away.

I feel I am being bad when I talk or
write about how I feel.

I feel rejected

I feel deserted

I feel I don’t exist

Yet, I live from my heart,
take risks, giving myself completely.

In an age of unrelenting ego
celebrating hypocrisy, possessions,
convenience, mediocrity, alcohol,
drugs, macho narcissim, and violence,

I experience the satisfaction of suffering
and surviving to acheive
that which we all as individuals
deem important.

By grasping life with all I've got,
I'm creating something greater and more moving
than my poems.

from The Athlete. Copyright © James Humphrey Trust


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