The things I've done to stay alive,
many disbelieve.
I want the whole world to know
my story,
but I can't speak it.
Don't speak,
don't feel,
don't trust.
That is the motto
of the dysfunctional family.

Upper-middle class,
but still hungry,
still afraid of the dark,
still cowering in a closet.
We've all got problems.
Somehow, we survive.

When I drink,
I cry.
That's what it means to relax.
To let my guard down
is to finally weep.
Everything has changed
but I'm still fighting the same battle,
still fighting the same demons.

"Why don't you just charge them?"
she asked me.
A mother is supposed to love her daughter.
The things I've done for love,
to try and fill that empty space,
disgust me.

I thought I had power;
I could use my body to turn him on,
but the more he got to know me,
the less attracted he became.
I thought if I could please men,
they would love me, they would want me,
but they see me for what I really am.

Inside I am small, pathetic, sad, afraid,
and insecure.
Real men cannot be manipulated
or tricked by my body.
Vulnerability and authenticity
are the only ways to please them.

"I wish I never had you"
she said.
A mother is supposed to love her daughter.  
That little girl is still inside me,
afraid of rejection,
hungry and desperate for love.
I abandoned myself.
I put myself in dangerous situations,
like an addict looking for a hit.

"****"
they said
while they waited for their turn.
The things I've done for love
disgust me.

Attention was my d.o.c.,
didn’t matter who.  
I have a skill for picking out
the most ****** up boy in the room.
God, you’re the only one
who knows why I do
what I do.
The darkness is calling.
There’s a hunger inside of me.
Temptation is everywhere,
just a click away.
What’s the worst that I could do?
I’m about to put myself
in a bad situation
just to fill the pit in my soul.
Achievements line the wall.
I never ****** up enough
for you to realize
how broken I really am.
No one could hear me
and when they did,
didn't want to believe it.

Who are you,
sitting behind a desk
in a white button up
and a red tie?
What happened to
blue jeans, white tee?
We used to drink 151 out the bottle.
Quiet boy and
crazy sad girl.
I tried to be a good influence
while you were getting sober.
I wasn't happy then,
I'm not happy now.
I need a drink and a smoke,
and a fist around my throat.

Might as well be as ****** up as I feel.
The darkness is calling again.
I know you won't follow me.

Forgive me, please--
I ran away
I couldn't stay
where I was despised.
I had no idea
how cruel she was
to you.
I thought
she lavished you with love,
all the love she
denied me.
I wish I had known.
I would have taken you with me,
taken custody,
and run away,
pushing you
in that big
teal bicycle wheel
stroller
you loved to thrill ride in,
screaming with delight
when, running at full speed,
I took the earthen ramp that
made you fly, and as soon as we touched down
squeal,
"Again!"

Or we could have escaped when
I used to toss you
high in the air, and catch you,
if, just once, an angel
would have come to our
rescue and caught you up,
and then me,
and flown us far away to Hawaii,
where we would have lived
very happily
while you grew up,
knowing every day
that you are loved,
unconditionally,
and safe,
protected by your
daddy elephant
from the icy blasts of indifference
and all harm.
Daddy elephant's big ears
are always listening
to the whispers
of your heart
and our hearts
would have understood
and respected
each others feelings,
fears, wants and needs.
We'd never need to fight
we'd say just what we felt
and be unafraid
to talk about anything.

In some cultures
they believe that
everything you imagine
is real.
In that spirit
and with all the love
I couldn't express,
I give you now the childhood
you dream of,
may you feel it
and know
it is true.