My Childhood Was Not Of A Remember-able One . . . Its One I Rather Forget.

I Was Just Brought Into The World.  
 
For Reasons I Don’t Quite Understand.  
 
Doctors Had Told My Mother.  
 
That I, Out Of The Both Of Us.  
 
Was Not Going To Born Alive.  
 
I Was Assumed To Die Upon.  
 
Entering In The World.  
 
To Their Astonishment.  
 
The Little Pair Of Baby Girls.  
 
Made It Through.  
 
Only One Pound Infants.  
 
We Stayed In The Hospital For Four- Three Months.  
 
Till We Were Ready To Go Home.  
 
Sometimes I Think The World Really Did Want Me To Die That Day.  
 
For The Series Of Events That Later Happen.  
 
Are A Child’s Worse Nightmare Everyday.  
 
I Was Only Two Years Old.  
 
A Child Of A Pair.  
 
Twins.  
 
We Had A Disorder.  
 
ADD (Attention Defeatist Disorder).  
 
I Was Merely The Leader To My Sister.  
 
Both Not Knowing Of The Common English Language.  
 
We Had Our Own Spoken Words.  
 
In Which The Other Children Had Made Fun Of.  
 
So Carelessly.  
 
We Understood Harshness In Its Kindest Of Forms.  
 
To This Day I Still Don’t Understand Why I Did It.  
 
Well . . .  
 
I Don’t Believe I Do.  
 
But In Anger, I A Small Merely Bones Skinny.  
 
I Had Pushed Over A Fairly Large Bookcase.  
 
It Fell Directly Over A Kid.  
 
Then The Next Thing I Knew.  
 
Is That The Teacher Had Held The Child.  
 
In A Frantic Way.  
 
Screaming At Me.  
 
Yelling “Why Did You Do That?!”  
 
I Was Silent.  
 
All Throw Day Care Days.  
 
I Rather Was A . . . Bad Child.  
 
Biting The Other Children.  
 
Causing Trouble.  
 
Giving My Mother Stress And Worries.  
 
She Finally Decided To Give The Care Of Me To My Father's Side Of The Relation.  
 
I Was Five . . .  
 
Only An innocent Puny Thing.  
 
(I Didn’t Want To Stay There.  
 
There Of All Places.  
 
Why!  
 
You Gave Them What They Wanted.  
 
WHY!)  
 
She Handed Me And My Sister To My Aunt.  
 
For Her And My Father.  
 
Had No Time To Pay Attention To Us.  
 
Or Our Needs.  
 
(She Said It Was Game. . .  
 
I Didn’t Know What It Was.  
 
IT WAS A GAME WASN'T IT?  
 
WASN'T IT?!)  
 
For One I Hated Being Around My Aunts Family.  
 
They I Would Say.  
 
Only Brought UN-Justified Punishment To Both Of Us.  
 
Well One Day . . . As I Remember.  
 
I Was Playing Outside With My Sister.  
 
A Little Toy Camera.  
 
I Pretended We Were Making A Movie.  
 
As My Small Child Imagination Made This True.  
 
My Cousin Came Out Excited.  
 
In A Rather Warm Tone She Asked Us.  
 
“I Have A Game We Can Play, Would You Like To Play The Game With Me?”  
 
We Liked To Play Games.  
 
So We Both Agreed.  
 
She Lead Us Inside The House.  
 
Toy Camera In Hand.  
 
I Dropped It . . . Its On The Grass I Believe.  
 
We Walked Down The Hall Way.  
 
Then Entered The Door On The Right, First One Before The Last.  
 
She Then Explained.  
 
“Sit.”  
 
We Complied.  
 
Then She Began To Instruct Us.  
 
She Said That It Was Something She Saw Her Parents Do One Night.  
 
(I Should've Grabbed My Sister And Ran.  
 
Ran Anywhere.  
 
And Never Go Back.  
 
TO THAT DAMN HOUSE!)  
 
But It All Happened So Fast.  
 
She Had Done Things To Us.  
 
UN-godly Things No Child Should Go Through.  
 
At Such A Young Age.  
 
She Had Tainted Us.  
 
Raping My Dear Sister.  
 
Then Sexual Abusing Me.  
 
(I DON'T WANT TOO.  
 
I DON'T WANT TO REMEMBER IT.  
 
WHY US!?  
 
YOU WERE FAMILY!  
 
I THOUGHT WE COULD TRUST FAMILY?!)  
 
My Parents Came That Very Night.  
 
No Word Was Said.  
 
For She Said If We Told Anyone.  
 
She'd Blame It On Us.  
 
All Of It.  
 
Saying We Would Be In Trouble.  
 
That We Would Be Hated By Everyone.  
 
So We Kept Quite.  
 
A Year Later.  
 
Six Years Old To Be Exact.  
 
We Finally Told Someone.  
 
A Teacher.  
 
That Taut Us In Special Resource.  
 
We Were Then Brought To A Room.  
 
Where There Was Teachers and My Mother.  
 
There, Every Expression To Our Secret Being Revealed.  
 
Sent My Mother In A Sorrowful Weep.  
 
And The Teachers In A Depressing State.  
 
I Was Drawing At The Time After That Event Happened.  
 
For After All This Happened.  
 
I Changed, Dramatic.  
 
To The Point That I Even Didn’t Know Who I Was Anymore.  
 
Being Sent Off With Those Di-spiteful Creatures Again.  
 
The Fathers Family.  
 
They Still Continued, The Torture.  
 
The Punishment Was Sent Our Way.  
 
Even If We Weren’t The Cause.  
 
Beaten.  
 
Or Even Worse Starved For Days On End.  
 
My Early Childhood Was In A Room.  
 
By Myself For Years.  
 
With Only One Toy That Belonged To Me.  
 
It Might Sound A Bit Silly But.  
 
I Had No Companionship, So I Restored To Making Friends With A Small.  
 
Tiny Music Box.  
 
That Played The Melody “Fur Elise”.  
 
A Thousand Tears Must Have Fell Upon Its Surface.  
 
For Every Time I Got Hurt Or Punished.  
 
Id Play The Lullaby.  
 
But This Was Shortly Lived.  
 
For One Day I Was Different.  
 
I Wasn’t Me, Not One Bit.  
 
I Started To “Break”.  
 
Is What I Call My Episodes.  
 
When Ever I Was In Harms Way.  
 
Or Hurt.  
 
Id Response In A Dangerous Way.  
 
Particularly Trying To Kill What Had Caused It.  
 
A Small Girl, Choking Her Cousin To Death.  
 
For Saying She Was The Reason The Family Is Like This, That Everyone Wants Her Dead.  
 
That No One Loves Her.  
 
So I Broke, I Knew What Was Happening But Couldn’t Stop It.  
 
Her Mother Caught Me Crotch Over Her.  
 
Both Hands Wrapped Tightly Around Her Throat.  
 
My Cousins Expression Was Gagging.  
 
My Aunt Told Me She Said “I Had Deep Red Eyes, That Were Lifeless And Was Merely Smiling.”  
 
After That There Were More Episodes.  
 
One Where My Cousin Kicked Me In The Stomach On A Trampoline.  
 
So I Knocked Him Off Leaving A Small Wooden Board At The Bottom.  
 
With Nails Sticking Out Faces Were His Head Would’ve Hit.  
 
But It Didn’t.  
 
Then Another Where Relative Hit My Head Against The Ground.  
 
So I Attacked Like A Demon On A Rampaged After Him.  
 
All Of Them Stating The Same Thing, The Red Eyes.  
 
The Last One Was When I Fell Off Of The Counter Trying To Get Something.  
 
Cutting The Back Of My Head On A Sharp Cradle.  
 
After That It Stopped.  
 
We Moved Away.  
 
To Oragen.  
 
We Started 6th Grade.  
 
I Was A Late Bloomer.  
 
Not Feminine Yet.  
 
I Was Always Uncomfortable With My Body.  
 
I Wore A Huge Jacket Covering What I Disliked.  
 
I Drew Alot.  
 
Crayons Drew Sad Events.  
 
In Which No Young Child Should Know Of So Young.  
 
Exactly The Age 11.  
 
I Began Drawing Morbid Things Of Death Of Past Relatives.  
 
I Took Therapy For Awhile, Till This Stage Went Away.  
 
Merely Faded From Me.  
 
For The Remainder, There Were Only Witnessing Parent Fights.  
 
I Remember When I Had A Small Piggy Back With Alot Of Change In It.  
 
I Was Crying Leaving A Note Saying, “Keep It”.  
 
My Parents Fought About Money Alot.  
 
We Lived In Motels Most Of The Time, They Were Hardly There.  
 
Just Me, My Twin, And My Older Sister.  
 
This Particularly Concludes My Childhood.  
 
And Its What I Hate The Most.  
 
Is That I Cant Seem To Forget It.  
 
For My Own Good.