The Last Expectation

(This is a very huge  part of who l am. I am posting because I want to be free of it. This is not for the sake of creativity,so you read this at your own risk. If you find it necessary to comment please use your discretion)

I was too little to speak

for if I did my say meant


A child without a voice

will still cry without

being heard

I walked in my sleep

I was fat and got beat up

It’s no wonder I cried

It’s no wonder I tried

The last Exceptation

wasn’t the exception

to the rule

The last expectation

unbeknownst to me

Here was a twist to the


You see my mother wanted

to take care of my grandmother

But my grandmother was too strong

had too much backbone and didn’t

want any of my mother’s doing

So I became the patient by proxy

(Now there many other theories

but for now I am using this one)

I was the disease inside of her

the term I believe they use is


My mother needed

and I was her Fulfiller

The last Expectation

came and went without

any direction from anyone

who knew or that matter


If there was a problem

I became the catalyst

I was the action to her


For too many years I was

the pet for her to walk

Now time and circumstance

with all its situations

now matters not

What matters is what I have


From each chance I had I struck

back with all the force I had

But, and I say but because

the one who lost big was I

I became my own patient whose cares and needs were

Fulfilled by me

From adolescence to addict

From a child of need to a man of want

There wasn’t a stone I didn’t turn

I lived under each and and everyone

(This coming from my heart, I am sharing this because if I can help someone to easy there pain then I know that I have ultimately won. This part of my recovery to share, my experience,strength and hope. It’s only because you all have been so supportive that I feel I can share this with you. For that I than you one and all)

11 thoughts on “The Last Expectation

  1. It is a very noble gesture to help others, Sheldon. Sometimes too writing is cathartic. I had to remind myself of Munchausen Syndrome. Your courage and strength should be much admired.

  2. Sheldon, from my work as an expert examiner for Child Abuse cases, I learned that when children are abused before the age of language acquisition, as I was, there is no way to totally heal that, because most of healing comes either in thought, which is mostly language-based, or in words, which we didn’t have then. Things like Gestalt Therapy were developed to try to heal preverbal and other types of subconscious abuse–psychological, gaslighting, things of that sort–but turned out to be a flop, or even more damaging because they brought up stuff and couldn’t heal it. This poem of yours is a brave inroad into your own preverbal abuse…it’s great that you are able to access this. I wish you success in hauling this stuff up out of the muck and healing. BTW did your mother have Munchausen’s herself, or did she subject you to the horrors of Munchausen By Proxy meaning to make somebody else (usually a helpless child) ill by using (fill in the blank, so many demonic ways to make someone sick) in order to get attention?

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