His clothing dirty, his body pungent,
Someone stole his shoes, he hadn’t eaten,
To ask for help he learned to be reluctant,
Every time he did he found himself beaten…
He cried himself to sleep,
The cold had gotten to his feet,
He had no one to love nor to love him,
He suffered deceit at the hands of men,
They did beat, use & abuse him…
He dreamed of living clean,
He dreamed of enjoying life,
He dreamed of being a regular kid,
With a regular family he certainly did,
He dreamed of riding naked on a horse,
His dreams were all he had, of course…
He was in his thirteenth year,
His life was full of fear,
He didn’t want to do it, but had to of his body sell,
A paltry five dollars they did offer him,
That day was when his virginity from him fell,
Raped, tortured, beaten, burned, by drunken adults…
So very very sad but a reality. How do some people sleep at night knowing this is going on in our very own country. I say that we take care of our own first and clean this country up.
This is the most poignant poem you of ever written. I sense that it strikes close to home.
There are thousands out there like that, that's why I'm giving annually to Covenant House, where at least, here in the United States, the street urchins have a place to crash when all else fails.
Happy Halloween. A volume of Horrible Haunts & Twisted Tales taken from the horror books La Belle Rouge has written every October for a decade and a half. If you have read her works in the horror genre, you know the invitation is for you to enjoy thr
In the end they'll all be dancin'--all them ones that didn't die.... Dance with me in the shadows amidst the lightning and the thunder, and all that nu-cu-lar debris. See the big bang from the other side, and then open that cellar door. Go down into
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Love ya!
Jane
There are thousands out there like that, that's why I'm giving annually to Covenant House, where at least, here in the United States, the street urchins have a place to crash when all else fails.
Ron