Poem: The Difference

On the outside appearing "normal,"
on the inside nothing like.
The outside lulls others
into a sense of security around me;
As if I would always act admirably.
When I do not, they are surprised.
"Do not say I didn't warn you,"
I caution, and
"Please understand the fault is not yours."
Their answer? Molestation.

As a Child my Parents abused me.
Not allowed to have my own feelings.
Not allowed to have my own Privacy.
Not allowed to express myself,
unless I wanted a beating.
"Repressed" is an understatement.

As an Adult I continued
what I learned as a Child.
Repressed my own feelings any way that I could
(Mostly with TV and Drugs).
Not allowed to have Privacy by
Society because of my homelessness or crimes.
Beaten and Abused by Police, Doctors,
Social Workers, Lovers,
Anyone who got the chance.
And I let it happen,
not knowing a better way to be.

Now I do know better.
Not yet practiced at behaving,
at least I finally know.
There's years of lost privacy
I have to make up for.
At times I tell others
"I must now be alone."
At times they understand, move aside,
and wait patiently for me,
to be ready for them again:
I Love Them.
At times they do not;
grappling, grabbing at me,
calling, writing, emailing,
ignoring my pleas for silence,
every word
pushing me farther away:
I Pity Them.

Speaking my Truth to others,
it's always their choice
whether they listen.
Friends want me to feel better,
even if it means me being alone.
Abusers don't care what I want or need,
as long as they get to do as
They Want.

That is the Difference.