I only ever worried that you
were too old for me.
Never once thought that I
could be too young for you.

I felt an uncomfortable mix
of excitement and fear
when I caught your eyes
lingering around my thighs.

I never imagined that you
too had an internal debate
somewhere between your
morals and your...

I don't want to be your
temptation, forbidden fruit.
Maybe if I were riper you'd
feel better about picking me.

it’s painful to see how our generation has become so afraid of being judged for eating and gaining a bit of weight that we’d rather starve ourselves to the point of sickness than live healthy lives. so many people bending and breaking themselves over what we have lead ourselves to believe should be considered as beautiful.

it’s painful to see how the word ‘love’ has lost  of all it’s meaning after it has been flung around and stepped on countless times. we have all lost our grasp on what being happy together was supposed to mean.

it’s painful to see how many of us have forgotten the meaning of valuing ourselves; everyone is out drinking themselves into comas, drowning their lungs in smoke and waking up in places they've never been before with no recollection of the events that have taken place the night before.

A fresh starts awaits.
But how is it fresh when she keeps slipping back to her old ways?
Promiscuity is nearing,
With open arms and a sly smile.

Seeking comfort in strangers' beds,
Reaching over for the unlit cigarettes
That will soothe her. She stares into nothingness and takes a drag,
Serenely happy - for a change.
She looks across and smiles
At the defined, naked body lying beside her
Calling her "bae" and "***" instead of "baby" and "honey".

Why does he call her that? Why is there no effort?

Why do they ask if she spits or swallows,
Instead of if she sings or dances?
Why do they kiss her neck,
Instead of kiss her hand?
Why do they take her to dark parks and alleys,
Instead of restaurants and malls?

And if she cries at nights when she's alone,
If she feels easy and used and of no worth

Why does she let them?

Moral pulls herself up
by her own bootstraps
on her high horse boots
with stir ups when I visit
and the rocking chairs
throw down newspapers
and stand to attention
in the name of Moral support
looking like we might be game
who holds the whip hand in this sport?

I straddle the fence
with her strict father
Duty
Duty gives the orders here
we try to carry them out
they're no heavy burden
not keeping mum Mercy
from being close
to daughter Moral
Duty is of higher rank
and gives Moral
direction
Duty sets the boundary
Mercy's bound to
follow
while Moral
carries the compass
and the compassion
of a conscience

Me?
I'm loyal
love enough
and
light enough
to jump the fences
with my own defence
Moral permits

This defence is
good for morale
but Duty is always on guard
for Moral
a perfect match
that can have
a deadly when ignited
bite to catch
those who are free spirited

When Duty's asleep
alone
he leaves a stern
guardian
off the safety catch
in Duty of care
for Moral
- Discipline

I must steal
this care
away
from the arms of Discipline
when Moral's involved
because Discipline
in the hands of Duty
would explode in the face
of neighbourly straying
should Duty do what he sees
fit
without Mercy at his side

But should Duty awaken
alone
to his Moral's
dilemma
I fear
his Moral Discipline
can be Merciless

Did we burn our breeches?
almost
we rode a city of them
chaste
off racecourse
to show
Moral Italy

Does evil change? Does it mean
something different to
each passing generation?
I rather think it doesn't
but instead wears some
dark mask to disguise hatred.
Looking into the future
it sees a people
who have abandoned their fight.
Subdued by unfortunate
laws and happenstance,
disappointment is normal,
until the cruelest evil
is met with a sigh
and casual acceptance.
Take heed that circumstances
that appear to have
improved beyond improvement,
are most dangerous to those
who are still oppressed
by lingering prejudice.