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this but a nightmare tale
for the adopted child
he'd not been treated with
a meekness so mild

raised by parents
who were sick of mind disposition
they abused him
without having any contrition

the boy utilized by deviant grown men
for ****** gratification
there was no human decency
in this fornication

their child's photos
shown to online perverts
who'd drool at the sight
of these lewd adverts

as a mere babe the lad
was groomed for paedophiles
of his parent's wickedness
they'd be placed on criminal files

no Christmas Dreams
only a lasting memory of buggery
the child was deprived
of innocence in his infancy
A poem based on a true story.
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i sometimes feel as if growing older
has done me more harm than good.

it killed my innocence
my naiveness
my purity
my ability to not think.

but mostly it killed the way my brain could make colours
and the way i saw love
and the way i saw life.
 Dec 2016 Louise Ruen
Mar
I was calm,
And then,
You.
You showed up,
With your warm brown eyes,
And your dark brown hair,
Your constant smile.
I never see you frown,
I never want to see you sad.
You’re beautiful,
But, you don’t know me.
How creepy am I,
To write of your attractiveness?
It doesn’t matter,
You’d never notice me.
But, oh,
How red I get when I see your face.
And, oh,
How heavy my breath gets when you are near me.
I long for you every day,
I long to know you,
And to touch you,
And to love you.
And I hope you would, in turn, love me, too.
How do I end such a creepy poem?
I just wish,
One day,
You’ll notice me.
I may or may not have fallen for a nearly-complete stranger
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