Poetic commentary on child sexual abuse. |
Comforted by the notion that someday she can leave Saving face, in hiding place, beguiles and will deceive Destiny, someday fulfilled, roller coaster rider thrilled Emotions spilled, abuse had bought, hunted down and killed A little girl's innocence died one sordid, summer night The small child's plight was echoing in the pale moonlight Grownups toasting, glasses raised, liquor's river sang refrain Whimpers in the gentle breeze, brought to bear a father's reign What is the cost that must be paid when innocence is fleeting? We pay a lofty price when it is children we are cheating... Restless soul, life filled with holes, upon a moonlit sky As bones grow tired, so uninspired, nobody asking why Why do we tolerate these acts that scar and cause such pain? We turn our heads away from facts while innocence is slain He taught her how to handle men, inside her stormy strife Daddy's little girl again, still running for her life Tears do not spill---denial numbs the fortress of a mind Ignorant of the molester's will, forgetting how unkind Her last tear flowed ten years ago, in darkness all alone Revelation of her isolation, cuts down to the bone No place to go, discarded, in a world she once so trusted No fault of hers, that in his loins her father for her lusted A cold, dark world awaiting, with blind eye for it had turned Imposing life long sentence in a Hell they made, she burned Comforted by the notion that someday she'd be freed From memories, an island, not imprisoned, not in need Relief, a distant promise made, in death then life will come Belief that when the flesh is gone, her pain will be undone Open up your sleeping eyes, see your children's tears Cry out loud, stop the lies, calm their paralyzing fears Open up your silent ears, the price of one deaf moment lost Not worth the thrill, her tears they spill, at monumental cost Childlike innocence now gone, that never will return Hell on hell, inside her mind, licking flames that burn Without protection, children lost, no loving arms to hold Sinful, sad, at such a cost, her future bought and sold... |