A poem pondering whether it’s better to have been abused, or to be an abuser

Dogwood

Dad

Sure, I have to live

With having been abused.

But you have to live

With having done it to me

And the fact that you can say you have a son, 

But you can no longer say you know him. 

What I know that you don’t though, 

Is that you never knew shit about him to begin with.

You projected your own limitations on a little boy who didn’t have them.


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