I write alot about youngsters trapped in their own hell, it helps release some of the monsters trapped in my memory. i am not advocating this behavior, only chronicling it.

He crept in again at 4am hoping no one
Would hear his soft steps creeping down the hall
He could smell the night on him and he shuddered
At the mixture of booze, sex and stale perfume
He didn’t want her to wake, to see him like this
To know where and how he spent his time
She knew only the person she wanted to know
Saw only the person she hoped he would be
But he crept on, knowing he would never live
Up to her expectations, never be the man
She could be proud of, his tastes were already
Perverted, his life too convoluted, his needs
To intense for this sweet innocent woman to perceive
He was fourteen years old this year and already
He knew his darling mother was in for pain
But until he had to hurt her with the truth
He crept down the hallway once more tonight