Timeless Child

This is my first attempt to cover the social menace of child molestation. I personally feel the sickness inside a pedophile is untreatable. The stats are available with most of the NGOs and other law enforcement agencies globally that states that all those who go through such horror in their earilier lives are often over taken by prolonged post-traumatic stress and other psychological disorders .Many of them even end up in juvenile homes and prisons when they grow up. Please read the poem only if you wish to feel the pain of a child who gets physically abused instead of witnessing endless love from all the corners of the world.

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Painting on a white paper piece

These shivering hands holds the brush

Need the right color from my valise

You do it slowly theres no rush

Sitting like a cornered stone

Lost in lullaby of my dreams

Just learned how to spell 'ozone'

Few reminiscence of self-esteem

Then you happened on a dark new day

Holding my fingers with a father's touch

Helping me with my sketches

Behind your eyes lived that ugly lust

You whispered every word of faith

Wish I could understand your plot

Fading innocence in every breathe

I was your sweetest jackpot

"Mother Mary dont you hear

I always did my homework in time

Jesus dont you see my tears

That crash upon the filthy chimes"

Every moment turned to hour

Trauma inflicted through that pain

Did my best to resist your power

That white paper and those red stains

I was left crawling in the doorway

As you zipped and left away with pride

You knew it was my eighth birthday

The day when my childhood died

sometimes I lived in Prozac,

sometimes I needed morphine

Yesterday I came out of rehab

Tomorrow I'm turning nineteen

Mother Mary dont you see now

I have got a hand full of guns

Every bullet has your name

Every moment has your burns

I'm trigger happy as I can be

Found you drunk at August's bar

Between your eyes I placed the three

Jesus you pushed me this far

Painting on a white paper piece

These trembling hands holds the brush

Your death was my final bliss

I painted slowly , there was no rush !