I've been robbed.
My childhood, my manhood. My self-love.
Taken... taken from me without permission.
A ten-year old boy with an ancient soul.
"Think beyond the physical. Think beyond the physical. It will be over soon. It will be over soon. It always is. It always is..."
The mantra of a screaming, hollow little boy.
A ten-year old with the vocabulary provided by abuse.
You weren't there, and yet... you were,
in your later guilt.
You cried.
"If I had only known!"
Ah, but you did know! You were there. You felt the shake of the bed. The quieted, muffled, screams of your child.
I wanted the shiny blue bike, but you told him no. I'd earned it, didn't I, Mum? For what I'd done - what I'd done for you.
You wanted love, and I wanted you to have it.
A son making a sacrifice for Mum.
"Oh baby there ain't no mountain high enough,
Ain't no valley low enough,
Ain't no river wide enough
To keep me from getting to you..."