She was damaged at a very young age becoming sexualy active
long before she should have.
As the strange men her mother brought home in her need to
address unhealthy prolictivities.
At five I began to grind the laps of these strange men unable
to understand the effect this had on them.
Staying up late at night watching my mother engulf them.
It was obvious that her omnipotent desires during her infancy
were not in a healthy way attended to.
Mom would ride them and I would see it disappear and reappear.
she moaned as if in pain,
causing even more confusion in my young brain if it hurt so much
why do it.
From this time on, normal shame, shame that should have existed
that deep introversion normal children would have, I did not.
She would heft their balls, she told me that by the weight of them
that the heavier they were meant new clothes and furniture.
The closet became my friend, the moans and grunt's took on new
meaning in the dark closest that I stayed hidden inside of.
This narcissistic behavior I would latter find out accomplished
this by fusing with one person to try to get all her needs met and by projecting her shame onto others.
She does this by mercilessly criticizing and devaluing my dad or any of her children.
My monkey was fiercely guarded by me but her cat was insatiable.
Consuming all that came near by her cough.
Strangely enough, our family looked good from the outside.
We became experts at concealing are narcissistic behavior containg
it to the safety of the four walls of our home.
http: //www.poemhunter.com/is-it-poetry/
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem