I hated me as they must have

I hated me and could not look other people in the eye

I could not tolerate my own reflection in a simple mirror

I knew that they were right to shun me and so I, too, tried to shun myself

I had no friends because I did not want to know those who would want to know me

I hated myself deeply and became, unconsciously, quite self-destructive

I grew bitter and sardonic, caustic and cynical well before my appointed time

I stayed alone just to avoid exposing myself to any normal people

I longed to be simply ordinary and not some monster who frightened children

It was no heroic battle against overwhelming odds

Just a mundane pusy deformation that blew up in my face

I hated me as they must have, as well, and I tried to let them know

If you tried to like me, I would have to hate you because I could not stand myself

I spent far too much time alone and it only made me stranger

I grew so knotted up inside I had to avoid even simple conversations

My face grew long and narrow and I remained always in the shadows

I lashed out in my frustration and, of course, they all just shook their heads

I could not take me seriously and thus I could form no plans

I simply ignored the future since I knew there was no place there for me

I sat depressed in the dark over the foolishness of my loneliness and anger

I peeled my silly mind like a very small onion and found no kernel at its center

I did not speak until questioned, then turned red, mumbled and looked away

I hated me and it showed in my clothes and voice and hair, my walk and expression

I hated having to hate myself because it seemed so petty and stupidly selfish

I hated those who tried to help me because I knew they did it only out of pity

I was devastated by that look of disgusted fear in women’s eyes

It seemed I tried with all my energy to simply disappear

I looked too closely within and was nauseated by what I saw

My future ended just after puberty and was replaced by anxiety and self-doubt

It was no noble struggle, no cross was borne and no hard lessons were won

I knew everything I did could only be unimportant and totally absurd

I lost interest in my constant depression and escaped into works of fiction

But I knew enough to never identify with the heroes, anymore

The best I could hope for was to be simply ignored and quickly forgotten

I saw everything I did through the twisted prism of the way that I looked

I could not feel sorry for myself because I hated that as well

I became quite absorbed by total failure at a very early age

I knew that I was not weak but it was also very obvious that I was worthless

I kept close company with artists, writers and musicians whom I would never meet

I felt sentenced to a foolish and degrading bit part that I was loathe to play

I employed various drugs in constant vain efforts at self-medication

I was shunned and I shunned others and myself in equal measure

I observed myself with disgust and just wanted to crawl away

Everywhere I went in public I heard these voices screaming ‘Freak’, ringing in my ears

I cursed god and bade him strike me down, as I lacked the courage to do so myself

I did what I was told in school without question, comment or objection

I bitterly rejected the sickening role of the unspeakably disgusting to which I was assigned

I hated myself for even fantasizing over ordinary relationships

I laughed harshly at my wasted lust as women fled, revolted by my appearance

I hid stoned within a book as much of the time as I could possibly arrange

I made it so they had to turn over a rock to find me, scuttling away from their light

I grew angry realizing my stupid hopes to be normal could never come true

I hated myself for the hypocrisy of my own continued existence

I was too ugly to live and was too cowardly to simply die, so I just tried to hide

There was never anyone to whom I could reveal my shame and deep despair

I grew defensively contemptuous of the ordinary habits and pleasures that were denied me

I sat alone after midnight as the walls closed in and the carpet weave rolled in waves

I hated myself and truly believed that it was the only correct and proper thing to do

Not Quite The Right Stuff

Perhaps got too much shade instead of good warm sunlight,

maybe took root in soil that was just a trifle poorer

not drained quite as well as required

or, perhaps, a bit too close to a footpath

took hold under limiting obstructions

very young, there came this hailstorm

maybe stepped upon as puppies

or smaller than all the others

grew too close to the downspout

possibly their mother was just too hungry

came up a season later, with siblings that were larger

or just shy and awkward, right off the bat, from birth

perhaps a trifle walleyed, a bit hare lipped or just a little deaf

father drank some and mother sorta accidentally fell down the apartment stairs

family was poor or they had prettier older brothers

often got no breakfast and wore that old and castoff clothing

simply could not always find the nourishment of mother’s teat

almost killed when he was still quite small, simple and defenseless

came to school in old sandals and her feet were brown and sandy

thought herself very stupid because she could not see the print

crippled by constant criticism resulting in chronic self-repulsion

thought that life was over after only sixteen totally embarrassed years

mother torn up by a nasty dog before she had weaned her kittens

the survivors having to learn of life bereft of her tender care

unable to pay attention long enough to ever start thinking straight

written off and forgotten though hardly even more than infants

left outside alone every day, slept on cardboard in the shed

ignored into chasing, growling, barking and then, at last, to biting

shaken for crying by caregivers who had been busy drinking

slowed considerably by mother’s chronic illnesses

rooted in soil made nearly toxic by construction

watered only by the runoff from dirty freeways and oily parking lots

diagnosed and written-off as failures by those who were their role models

told they were worthless and unworthy by parents that they just loved so blindly

instructed at an early age by authorities just to give it up and go away

totally invisible to those who might have been there to help them

given away when they stopped being cute

never socialized properly into any pack

stunted and bent by untimely snowstorms

grazed too low, time and again by passing deer

born high to a smoking, snorting, shot-up or drunken mother

squeezed into a modular beside a desolate road without expectations

found brothers in the prison and learned more there than at any school

knew only a family missing a parent and led by the child of a child

grew too close by the highway and was buried too often by the snowplow

road salt thrown up on their branches drained down into their roots

perfectly formed but not meeting accepted standards of normal beauty

written off quite early and very consistently through their formative years

hatched in a smaller pond where food was not too plentiful

finely-formed fish which weigh less than what we count as average

born without nurturing parents, favorable schools or sense of community

nonetheless, with good effort, able to pull just above the national average

surely you have seen them but perhaps not even noticed,

those far less than perfect, nonetheless, doing more than surviving

even though ill-favored or scarred, maybe abused, still they strive

they surely travel just as far, but on harder roads, than brothers of better circumstance