Despicable Me

P Yusuf

Deserving of your hatred,

deserving of your contempt?

A crime to be born, a despicable thing...that's my kind!

Contemptible, loathsome, detestable

abhorrent, heinous, abominable,

repellent, awful & repugnant.

Such big words for a little boy!

I couldn't even pronounce em...let alone say them.

They were your words,

some of your labels...just for me,

so many, I couldn't count em all,

...and I never understood every word,

I just felt their intent,

I knew they were bad..

I guessed I must be to!

Oh Despicable ….Me, …despicable me, that was another word you said.

It really didn't mean a lot to me!

I think....I got repulsive, I could tell by your face

you screwed it up when you spat out that word.

I could always tell by the way you spoke

cos your words were angry, they were loud,

venomous, mean, spiteful...and shouty!

.. And I already knew I was disgusting.

You reminded me of that each day!

….You made me pray and ask for forgiveness

cos everything was my fault, I was to blame.

You said I was nauseating and obnoxious

....but I liked those words....

Good I thought! I just never said it out loud

….. but the pleasure I secretly took

knowing you felt this way, was mine to savour.


Do remember when you said I was distasteful,

You even spat on me,

I can still feel it...

saying I was a repulsive child,

so horrid that I should be ashamed.

I didn't know I could feel even more?

I was a low-down, undeserving wretch.

Not only was I dirty & filthy,

but unworthy of any kindness or love

and as for gratitude,

that was something I needed to earn.

You despised me, hated having to look after me

.... you told me that, …Do you remember?

Death would have been the best thing

for me and the rest here.

Oh Despicable.......Me.


Strangely though,

and I don't understand why?

Maybe it was a primal need....

I was always ready to forgive, to forget...

I think this is sometimes called 'hope'.

Desperate to believe in kindness

needing to believe I mattered...even for one day!

Innocence of thought and deed,

a believer’s dream, a believer’s ask ...a child’s lot!

A believer.. that's me, imagining my fortune could change

I got that one wrong didn't I,

spectacularly at times...



the way your ambivalence was shown towards me

it fooled me, tricking my internal trustometer.

I awaited some sort of benevolence,

thinking kindness would come my way

….and I got that wrong too!

Do you remember when you said I looked shabby,

that I always look like a tramp

a miserable looking child, so sullen

an ungrateful child......No wonder no one wants you?

No wonder you wasn't kept!

...What did I have to smile about?

All I knew, I was rotten through and through,

.... Oh, and ashamed,

I felt that one a lot cos you said I had to,

cos I was filled with so much badness, it was all my fault.

I believed all your words!!!

Oh Despicable …,



You tried to damage me beyond repair

you were relentless, persistent, determined,

breaking me into so many pieces...

with your fists, your boots, your keys,

your sticks and your words, squashing my child....

stamping on my spirit and my body.

You silenced my voice...... you beat me quiet!

You made me hide all my memories,

all my pain, my hurt, my rejection,

in places too dark to visit because it frightened me!

Cos what, if what you said, was true?


But some things never go away

and nightmares revisit and revisit.

They keep me awake at night,

shaking me out of sleep...a luxury not intended for me.

They haunted my daytimes, I had no escape

still alert to movement,

still alert to their intentions.

...They chip away,

constantly tapping me on my shoulder

until Pandora's box must be opened,

releasing shadowy emotions,

who crawl and clamber from my minds prison

and I, must face my past....

I must make sense of my woven story,

the one you fabricated, the one you fashioned for me,

as it now seeks answers, some sort of understanding ...some well earned peace!

An outpouring of tears grieves for my little boy

the need to release their salty wash

so, my inners can heal....

and I can get to breath with a slow rhythm once more.


People talk about a weight lifting

when facing their fears,

I think this is so apt, I underestimated this feeling.

Never have I been so light of spirit, or is it soul?

A freedom of body, of mind,

is now allowed to dance in the clouds ...

And I talk, and I write, and I talk and I cry,

and I voice my feelings,

I scream aloud that I mattered, that I still matter!

I scream that I am worthy,

was worthy and always will be.

I scream that I can be loved...and love.

Deserving of it in abundance...



More like Contemptible you, hurtful you,

unscrupulous you...


DESPICABLE YOU..I feel sorry for you

Crucification of a childhood
by P Yusuf