Content warning: References to violence, abuse, sexual assault, grooming, family breakdown, trauma, suicide attempt, drug use, and strong language.
Reader discretion advised
Concussions, broken limbs, torn tendons, many stitches and staples, ER VIP, broken spine
This was normal, right? rites of passage for every dude
The pain, doubt, fog, violence fucking up my already fucked up mind
Kept walking, no, running through fire, no stopping, cleaning ashes, get what’s due
Moment I could, I left, never to return, no plan, no reason, no desire, just exit, safety, no hope
Went through quattro more cities and regions. Detach, grow, shift, and move on
Moved six times in four months at one point as my world was venom and some dope
Hated that I couldn’t outrun and wouldn’t do what I knew. If I went, there I was, the biggest con
Finally had enough. Wasn’t for me. When I had my chance I didn’t waste it. I took enough pills.
Fuck that cat. That fucking cry. I had to help the fucking needy cat. Fuck. That was my chance.
The ambulance came and took me away, the system would try to break down my walls and wills
Laughed to myself. Same shit, new day. Same game, new predators. Same plan. Same dance.
Older now. But barely a boy. Really only wanted. Wanted to leave the void.
Had too much to carry. Was in so many pieces, and the pieces were cracking, too.
Couldn't stop, couldn't start. Even had straight As. Didn’t need academic steroids.
I was nothing like anyone. I had no more jokes. There was no me. Only the prints of you.
Belief meant nothing. Words were shit. Promises fake. The Dream a lie. Only actions.
I had lockjaw. Except I told the truth, made people uncomfortable. It drew up factions.
Told me I was strong. I had courage. I had grit. I smirked. I had the it factor most don’t
I laughed, said thanks, I know it can’t be easy to fake
You got it. That can’t stop won’t stop. But they won’t see it. Or don’t.
The way you walk and talk is someone who grew up too fast in a choice he didn’t make
Please shake my hand, I want the honor. Fuck, my eyes are sweating, look what you did
Then let them. Drop it, show how they do where you’re from, be you
Don’t know where I’m from or how to stop scanning the room, there’s always something hid
Be you? That’s cute. I’m not me. I’m you and you and you and them, so tell me, be who?
Have addresses and cities but that answer’s merde. Not fit for this world, this lie, this cage
Knew too much, too young, too innocent, now too guilty. Can’t undo it. Already done
Then let’s break you out, do the work, address what’s you: earned rage
N’ah. I’m set. Please go. I need to “sleep.” My eyes are wet. This shit’s embarrassing, not fun.
Was a man. Was still a boy. Really only wanted. Wanted to leave the world.
I had too much to carry. I was scattered like ashes on a map.
I waited, I didn’t sleep. I had a master’s degree. Yet my mind and address were a whirl.
I was detached on autopilot, with swagger and problems. I took the rap
There were no beliefs, words, actions, or anything that mattered. Nothing at all.
Yet they made me cry like a child and I couldn’t stop. The word courage started the spiral.
Learned I was neglected, abused, bullied, assaulted, raped, groomed. None my fault
Taught to doubt, question my safety, memories, clarity, strength. Everything me
Thought shit was deserved, wanted, caused, desired, or worse, just the result
Still didn’t speak. Made them pause. What else to say? They like deniability
Ended up a teacher. No. Street educator. Trauma literacy expert. Weapons books and pens
At the “risky” schools where mi español was an asset, my knowledge needed, my senses a gain
Saw the breakdowns, fights, issues at home, pain, and more, just by watching a walk and grin
Shit was heavy, but it was known. knew these streets, the weather, when it was going to rain
Got better and stronger. Trusted with toughest and roughest. Cool, bring on some more
Still detached, professional, mouth shut, emotions rare, noticing everything, even when I’m good
Married to someone who doesn’t want to hear, a daughter I fear will end up in my war
Now I write, remember, and put out the red flags, see a trauma therapist in my neighborhood
Am a man. Was a man. Really only wanted. Wanted to protect you from me.
I had too much to carry. I can’t make it make sense, even with hindsight 20/10.
Sometimes I sleep. I’m a fifteen year vet. I worry those I know will really see.
I am all in, fully attached, and man it’s shitty, but I’m grateful and cry like I didn’t then.
Everything matters. Even the little parts. It’s all connected, all important, all real.
Also a boy. Was a boy. Grew up too fast and never grew up. But I’m learning to heal.
Yeah, how it land? Oui? Cut it. Done. My mind isn’t playing tricks. Send it.
