Reblog – childhood’s villain by Bogdan Dragos

A powerful read for anyone with a dysfunctional childhood, definitely one for me.

Daydreaming as a profession

Father used his fists a lot Though never on the kids On the walls and the furniture and the doors and the mailbox and the fence and the neighbors and random people on the street and strangers in the bar and a few times the poor dog and one time on mother He was the childhood’s villain To defeat him one had to become a hero and becoming a hero took time And today after all this time the villain of childhood was dead He died at the hands of some other character, a neutral one A cop who told him to drop to the ground and father didn’t so he got shot That was it The end of his saga Utterly unsatisfactory anticlimactic disappointing just bad There was no final showdown between hero and villain because those things only happen in childhood and childhood had ended a long time…

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Arduous

i know i should be your champion
your friend
the best actually
always by your side

but i’m not your mother nor your shrink
and i’m way too old
for these repetitious struggles
leading nowhere

how can i keep fighting for someone
who has worn me down
to the point
where i don’t even fight for myself

i’m exhausted
and filled with anxiety
staying shackled
to a future which remains elusive

i’m spent
and not in a good way…

Half Open

fear keeps us silent mostly
the expression of needs rare
we remain stoic above all else

fear keeps us panicked always
internally we are a mess
externally no one would know it

fear keeps us shackled mostly
wounds so easily reopened
when secrets are shared

fear keeps us lonely always
in the interior of our souls
giving a small bit but revealing nothing

fear keeps us all to itself


Beginning, Middle, End

by chance
life begins amongst strangers
a start of birthed possibilities
propelled without consent

entering this world
substantive expectations spur entities on
with an unconscious hope for empathy and guidance

yet living is a potluck
one possibly enjoyed
but for them
probably not

filled with variables beyond their control
with only but a few moments
bent favorably in their direction

too soon
the barely living
trudge towards the inevitable
a half-achieved existence for most

with regret
many pass
with tears
they leave in agony
their death
the unfortunate finish they’d not hoped for

Trauma

our family rich with morbitities
of the mind, body and soul
wondering which fate awaits me

inviting the punishment
for perceived past misdeeds
a self-flagellation of sorts

abuse hammered in
nailed to my psyche
hard to escape, even after years

wrenching free is the only hope

Injuries

it was plain to see, flying like a plane off her wooden stilts
there would be blood
there was no pain as the broken window pane sliced down beside her left eye
so much blood discombobulated her mother
tears took center stage, not the white t-shirt now stained dark red
the hysteria in the background so oscar worthy
a little girl watching the performance
not knowing yet there were deeper wounds created
years passed before mom and her chronic attention-whoring
got that so richly deserved smack-down
the girl, now a woman, didn’t clap, fawn or adore anymore
she just walked away

Inspired by Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Saturday Mix