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Leftovers


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Unsettled, always shaken
Into total misunderstanding of myself,
I feel terrorized, demonized,
Demoralized and victimized,
Always always left with a bitter bile,
So dark, so vile,
Bubbling to the surface I try to hide,
Taking all inside:
The doubt, the fear, the deepening
Feelings of abject violation,
Victimized no less by subjection to
A place that frightens me so now,
After all these years,
A situation in which daily
I feel I easily fall once more into
This role of powerlessness,
No less I say than that to which I was subjected
As an innocent child of four years age,
No less than the jaded girl aged eleven;
I’m not as stupid, though, as you may guess,
Despite my lack of education and
Apparent appearance as filthy white trash from where you sit.
I wonder at your
Propensity to draw near to you
Those you know
Suffer in one or another way a lack of balance.
Every bully has a favorite type,
A legal perpetrator penetrating
To the heart of the matter
Shattering any small semblance of balance,
Until day appears night to me,
Until it seems I am always wrong,
Until I am the child once more shaking in fear
Of what comes next.
I believe I’ve let it go too far, too long,
My own children one too many nights
Have seen Mommy cry and wish to die.
I cannot speak for anyone else,
But this nasty darkness in my soul
Consuming me is no longer worth meager reward,
An occasional “atta girl”
Tossed in with veiled threats
And barely-hidden contempt.
I feel sick, sickened in so many ways.
Paranoia has once more taken root;
Congratulations.
Soon this must end,
If I am to survive,
Maybe not to you,
But my life is worth more than this,
My family deserve better from me
Than the leftovers I am becoming.

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