There was a man who didn't know what was his.
He thought as a boy that some demon forced him
To wear "his" clothes and live in "his" room
And sit on "his" chair and be a child of "his" parents.
Each time he sat down to dinner, it happened again.
His own birthday party belonged to someone else.
And- was it sweet potatoes that he liked?-
He should resist them. Whose plate is this?
This man will be like a lean-to attached
To a house. It doesn't have a foundation.
This man is helpful and hostile in each moment.
This man leans toward you and leans away.
He's charming, this man who doesn't know what is his.
-Robert Bly
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