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May 2013
There’s a part of me
That’s still the 5 year old kid
The part of me that’s scared
That knows I’ll need a blanket
From the bottom of a bottle
To hide and protect me
From the monsters in my mind

I used to be a real boy

Now when I close my eyes,
the image rises into view.
From back when you lied to me
And my trust lied in you
Well that trust lied too
I want to forget,
A blank slate of memory
Like this blank page in front of me
But it’s not blank
It has everything on it
Like when you walked to your door
And you locked it
Turned to me and said
“We’re gonna play a game”
I looked up to you innocently
And asked what’s its name
But a five year old mind isn’t developed enough
To understand the term “*******”

The discomfort building in my heart
Didn’t seem to fit
Because how could it all
Be building up to this
How could I know
You were a Grimm Brother’s Pinocchio
Because when you lied, your nose, it didn’t grow
Oh no
It much further south
And much better hidden
At least until you were alone with a kid and
Then liar liar’s pants were off
Like they were on fire
I know what a deer feels like
When it’s seen by a lion

Cornered by four walls
And a locked door
I was about to find out
What was in store
And they don’t take refunds
I tried to fight you off
But to my David
This time Goliath won
And with absolutely nowhere to run
I did the only thing I could
I cried out
And in a second your hand covered my mouth
Silencing the sound
Of an innocence being stolen
And a soul being broken
“Don’t make a sound”

I’ve been told we all have one creator
So tell me Gippetto
Did you know
Was it in your perfect plan
For all of this to happen
Or is the blue fairy in charge
Handing out wishes to those with blackened hearts
Or maybe none at all
There was only one mercy granted from it all
It’s defined as a repressed memory
For ten years it was kept from me
Blacked out with flare ups of anxiety
Side effects of a mental infection
Always managing to evade detection
Until I was fifteen
When the wall finally came crumbling down
And while there were so many people around
Who could I turn to
Who could I possibly trust
After becoming a victim
Of the ultimate sin of lust
And if you have figured out the name
Of the game I was forced into playing
Then you’ll understand what I’m saying
When I tell you

I used to be a real boy
I re-visited this poem a couple months ago, I meant just to change a few things and update the other one, but it ended up getting completely re-done
Hunter Shields
Written by
Hunter Shields
1.6k
   Ruzica Matic, --- and Gary Muir
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