With the lock in place
Excitement belies the tragic
Rescued from a puddle
Smudged, stained and streaked
Damaged, but made of magic
In large, round letters
Another girl’s name
Things rarely go as planned
With eyes closed tight
Imagine the right name
Blue on white, in a careful hand
Under the sticky flap
Cartoon princess waves
A glorious pink and white dream
Icon of acceptance
You are invited!
Throat aches a private scream
One more exclamation
I hope you can come!
Inside ricochets Not you!
Shred the envelope
Deep scratches in skin
Reinventing what is true
The evidence gone
Re-pocket the prize
And unlock the bathroom door
While deceitful mirrors
Reflect a standard child
Fears and flaws stand on the tile floor
It's a part of childhood abuse and neglect that often goes unseen, or at least unmentioned. When things are so wrong at home, it's as if there is a mark left on us that everyone can see. We are different. We are separate. We are not accepted by our peers, not included in the normal rights of passage and made to feel even more alone.
The shyness and introverted behavior we exhibit labels us as different. Those we meet sense this and their reaction is to back off, at the least - or to add to the harm with further abuse in the form of teasing, mocking and bullying. In turn, this reaction from others reinforces the notion that the flaw is within us - that we are the ones who were at fault all along.
It isn't true. It was never true. I was not flawed and deserving of abuse, and neither were you.
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