The whiter you are,
No matter the race,
The easier for mainstream
to accept your face.
From Asia to America,
Dark means bad, poor, slave,
Working in the sun,
Living a life on the run,
From police,
From prejudice,
From pain.

Dopamine,
a cascade of chemical pleasure,
food, s-x, *****, caffeine,
the chase for a fix,
the remedy for my pain,
a salve for my suffering.
But it’s temporary,
yet the need for a hit consumes interminably.
Like a lion on the prowl,
searching for prey,
the addict scours the earth,
desperately searching,
searching for more.
In this world of predator and prey,
the addict eventually discovers,
he is both.

I was a *** addict,
starting at seven,
no I didn't have *** then,
but the stage was set
and developing.

Disconnected at home,
parents speaking Chinese,
with no language for love,
I found it elsewhere,
in a stash of sleeze.

Magazines,
make-out scenes,
lingerie ads,
**** scrambed on tv,

my young eyes transfixed
on what I thought was love,
on an illusion,
a fake,
a counterfeit,
hooked on intensity,
longing for intimacy,
a boy devoured by sexuality,
a boy yearning for so much more.

Shame! What it is.
Unlike guilt, makes your soul wilt,
unlike guilt, shame focuses on blame!
Your experience?
Pain!
No repentance,
no contrition,
no sincere abolition,
all about condemnation!
You ask yourself,
Would you leave if you knew me,
Would you scold me?,
or Would you hold me while I shake uncontrollably?!
Shame!
A cycle of pain,
ruptures and fissures,
Grace?
There’s no space!
Instead a race to hide,
not to confide.
Keeping secrets,
keeping pain,
Being broken,
being shamed.
Disgracing your nation,
Facing temptation,
Experiencing alienation.
Cultures clashing,
teeth gnashing,
self-bashing,
Shame,
what it is!

I tell myself,
just one last time,
It’s a lie you know,
a verbal disguise,
to hide my intentions,
of getting my fix, a hit, just another high,
to calm my nerves,
soothe my pain,
ease all the fears inside.
I’m afraid you know,
of confronting my feelings,
they want to emerge, show themselves,
but I’m scared so I continue to slip,
Leaving me reeling,
in more agony, shame, and confusion.
One last time though is nothing more than deception,
deceiving myself,
hundreds of times once again.

There was once a man,
Whom I trusted,
to guide me, mentor me, and nurture me.
He wasn’t my father,
but he acted like he could be.

Words of wisdom,
words of praise,
words of encouragement,
to help me through forlorn days.

What my dad couldn’t do,
This man readily filled his shoes.
He believed in me,
spoke truth to me,
laughed with me,
made me see,
The world?  My Oyster!

I swallowed it whole,
Like a hungry fish,
hook, line, and sinker.
Attention, time, and gifts he gave,
flattered he cared,
With his pedigree and accolades.

People warned I was naïve,
Saying he was too nice,
and friendly.
I ignored them all,
thinking why would he,
hurt me?
Since all he wants is the best for me,
both emotionally,
and professionally.

One night though,
cast a pall,
on years of trust, camaraderie,
and long-distance phone calls.

Me being young and innocent,
and used to saying “yes”,
didn’t have the words to disagree,
it’s sad, but I must confess.

Beer, wine, liquor,
It didn’t matter,
His goal?  Get me sicker!

My defenses were down,
like a wounded deer,
he knew losing this relationship,
my greatest fear.

Touching me, rubbing me, seducing me,
I was numb and in shock,
his abuse of power,
with no fear of being caught.

Kept it to myself,
Wondering why couldn’t I just say,
“Stop!”

I left that night,
Innocence stripped,
self-esteem shot.

Years have passed,
since that time,
I’m still haunted,
by that crime.

I’ve grown up fast since then,
becoming cynical with trust,
avoiding new friends.

I question my worth, my talents,
and my capabilities,
living with this feeling,
of disgrace and lowly humility.

But forgiveness is God’s love,
despite what’s happened,
bitterness and anger,
melting like ice,
on snow-capped mountains.

In its place?  
The glory of God’s grace,
surrounding me,
comforting me,
and lifting me,
out of my soul’s darkest place.

Beaten,
stabbed,
molested,
trauma shouldn’t go uncontested.

Assaults on your thoughts and emotions,
no hugs or kisses,
mom and dad dismissive?
“Don’t be weak!”,
“What’s wrong with you?”,
“You’re a kid, you have no right to speak!”

This is still trauma,
we know it to be true,
when you shout and scream,
at kids as young as two.

Set high standards,
for grades in school,
yet without love,
kids won’t understand the rules.

Punishment,
time-outs,
you’re grounded,
no explanations except,
“I’m the head of the house!”,

Children may succeed,
do well at work,
but deep down inside,
question their worth.

Trust is hard,
as emotions get neglected,
bonding in childhood
never corrected.

Children need love,
more than food on the table,
or a roof over their heads,
to know that they matter,
lest their true selves get shattered.

Saying, “I love you”,
is not easy to do,
especially when culture
says that’s just too taboo.

If you’re scared, hurt, or lonely,
will someone take time to listen,
or will you get teased and compared
to the proverbial chicken?

“Sticks and stones” do hurt,
but words can hurt even more,
especially if you know trauma,
more than feeling adored.