What You Were Supposed To Be.

Destructive Adult Deviant

You had a rough life. The understatement of the century. Your mom beat you black and blue.

Your dad hated you, and your mom never did anything. You didn't even get an I love you.

Your dad beat you. Your mom didn't listen when you told her that they did things when you came through.

You couldn' t even walk home from school without someone hitting you.

Pain and confusion was all you knew. Not a goodnight kiss, not some fun at the park.

They told you were crazy, that they could make you better. But they turned your problems into something too dark,

For anybody to control. And they let you go. Gave you some drugs so someone would smile at their art.

And you pretended. Forever. To be normal, so they would accept you. But there was always always that part,

of you that leaned towards power. Control. And it killed your heart.

Not the beating one, with all the tubes connected to it. The one that makes you human. So you had to learn,

how to make it look real. To watch how people reacted so you could earn,

their trust. And it worked. Someone trusted you. With their happiness and their life.

And then another one, and another one, and another one and so on and so forth til you have three sons, a daughter, and a wife.

Congratulations right? Wrong. At least two of those people were destroyed and put back together. YOU destroyed them and put them back together.

You made the youngest watch, and you made the other two help you, and destroyed and put back together two people. And they still aren't quite

Right. She is still cleaning up the mess you made. She is dealing with the pain you caused. But she's winning. So good for her. Right? Right.

He is just now finding himself. You robbed him of his childhood, made him fear, made him hate, made him weak. Until he got strong.

You thought if you forced him to learn how to fight, learn how to take pain, he'd be alright? Buddy, you got it wrong. 

He cried himself to sleep every night because he could still hear that song

you would sing him before you took from him again and again and again for almost twelve years.  But he still got strong.

He fought a battle every day to leave the house, to be around people, to endure loud noises. He was pushed away for his inability to understand

emotion he was pushed away for his intellect, for not liking the same thing as everybody else, his universe a toxic wasteland. 

You thought he'd get strong from beating him down, and he did. In a way.

He figured if he could survive you then he could survive the world. After all, Rome wasn't built in a day. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Part Two is on its way!