For thirty seven years I carry this
It is something I just can’t dismiss
The damage inflicted from another
That cure you can’t get from your mother
Innocence was taken without after thought
Was this monster man ever caught?
How many others did he hurt?
He is made of pure dirt!
A seven year old boy just wanting to belong
His arms was so strong
Holding me face-down
Thinking he was just the clown
Penetration never hurt so bad
I wonder if it would have happened, if I had a dad
Crying and tears made him stronger
This was just the start and went on longer
That was not merely enough
He liked doing sick stuff
Forcing things now in front
I am just thankful it was all blunt
Now walking with a neon sign
Where does one draw the line?
Monsters are everywhere
How much can one boy bare?
Copyright © GERT WEWEGE | Year Posted 2016