by George "Papa" G.

papagtg@swbell.net

The remembered fear of the closet closing. Why?

Hate tasted as the lock did click. What did I do? Was this deserved? Why?

Punishment to teach? Boards with holes within. Forks at dinner tables, manners learned.

Why? Are you a Big man now? Shot gun holes, so fucking loud. His weakness, my shattered soul. Decipilined. Cuffed. Inflected and afflicted.

Held by the darkness. Unrecognised noises and my brothers cries. Why?

Disgraced. Disrespect taught. Empty little closet preferred to his touch. Why?

The smell of stale booze, memories of dreadful things. How sad. Tonight my turn?

Stigma. So much shame. The pain remembered, as tears rain upon this hateful mans face.

Branded in my own mind. Polluted. Unwanted touches. Confusion. Pelted. Why?

Thumped and fucked. Now all my touches based on this? Why?

My father chasing dollar bills. No time for his little mistake. Now he rich and I have a heart of black. Be proud dear sire be proud. Why?

Youth stole by licks and sick games. Impure.

Still I can not mention his name, that title of vileness. Bad.

Hate took away the shame I thought at twelve. Learned to fight.

Rage has ruled ever since. Touch me now if Ya dare!!!!!!!!

You ran to death, you pediphille little fool. Now, a victim of Karmas rule. Why?

Never to accept disrespect again. Why?

These hands harden by hate and a life of meaner streets,

dog inside this fighter larger still,

yet, in the darkness of my closet memories I am again small.