Abandoned, Discarded, Sold!
The child; like trash, on the side of the road.
Like a disease no one wants to discuss
Mother couldn’t want me,
It was Grandpa’s alcoholic pride, his lust.
In this way he punished her; Did he know, (No!) what he did to me?
His words, as his mind, just a slur.
Abandoned, Discarded, Sold with Caprice
The purchasers of this infant, you see,
Still carryed their own unfinished business. They had their own, with loss; at great cost,
Taking a child, who for his lifetime,
They will chide and abuse.
For her own emotional needs he will be used.
There was for me no heart.
Without a parent’s heart where does an infant go?
I will always wonder, Why
Did I deserve to be the other
A second choice, only second best or less.
A consolation for the death, the child, that the mother called, “mine”. With this familial lower class status
Adoptees are expected to be fine
Of the Adopters, the Slave Masters, one wonders, “Are they blind?”
To the reality of the Adoptee
To the mythology they call their family.
A Life-World where that which Is, just isn’t.
That which doesn’t exist, Is the foundation of the Adopter’s reality.
The Adoptee is always alone.
Never better than the worst that came from that woman’s womb.
Treated as an indentured child
Compared to the natural-born, the Adoptee is wild. . .
Believed with no foundation of facts.
Adopter’s attitude sorely lacks.
The Truth pales to the fiction they were taught .
In Truth, and for Truth, the Adoptee for a lifetime has fought.
In the end. When the older generation is dead.
The Adoptee remains
Abandoned, Discarded, Sold
Did he deserve to be the other. With a “mother” so cold.
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