Poem: I am That I am

So, there it is.
I and He are the same,
in a manner of abuse
and that is why
she liked me.
Though I don't think I
actually screamed at her,
and I never hit her
- I wanted to.
It was the ugliest
I could possibly feel.
It was every reason
I should be dead.
It was my abusive father
chanelled through my body,
everything I hate most about the world
and I was it, baby.
I tried to hug her after
and we did,
but it felt fake and forced.
The love had fled
in the face of our
disfunctionality...

What had started off,
and spent so much time feeling,
like the lovliest thing on earth;
stuttered, burped,
tripped, halted, and puked up
broken fire coals
of the worst
pain and shame,
the foulest
self-loathing,
and the firmly-based
realization
that I may never be able
to have a normal relationship;

Because
I am
So
Fucked Up.