Poem: abuse cycle rinse don’t repeat

Alisa Mulder, unsplash.com

My sister bullied me

she showed me who was alpha

wouldn’t let me eat

set me in my place

patrolled my victimhood

trained me in slavery and dominance

because I was the mirror she hated.

I detested her jealous surveillance

but pitied her when I saw her degraded

often by our father who whipped

the whole family out of shape

out of our minds and bodies into the astral

beating is a kind of rape.

He spared me but not exactly

he perpetually creeped me out

if he was the king of our prison

I was his hunchbacked accomplice

part jester, part lap dog, 100% coward

more cocker spaniel

than feisty cross-eyed pug.

I had a wise counselor tell me

about survivor’s guilt she said,

“Physical wounds eventually heal

but victims of neglect, and sexual abuse

take longer to heal because their wounds seem invisible.”

Did it really happen?

Am I the pervert imagining this?

No you’re not imagining.

Why would anyone want lust from their father?

No you didn’t cause or imagine any of it.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s