Daddy

This poem was inspired by one of the most emotionally packed and raw songs I have ever heard, by a band which I hold close to my heart (Korn). This is the song for anyone who wants to listen (it is loud, angry, and emotional, touching on a subject that affects modern life in a shocking way), and this is the fruit of my labour.

The little child he was was supposed to be safe,
tucked up in bed where the monsters couldn't get,
but the nightlight threw shadows to disturb his rest
and the man is back by his side.
Tears already threaten as he remembers the last time,
knowing they won't change a thing,
as his innocence came away in the hands of the man
who whispered 'That's a good boy'
while he pulled the cords still tighter.
After that, it hurt, and that was all he knew;
fear blooming before its time,
forever asking 'why?'
Why he touched him there,
and why he couldn't cry,
and why no one believed him
when he told them what he'd done?
Behind his bedroom door
the nightmare lives on repeat,
until his skin no longer feels his own,
so dirty and abused,
and he gives up screaming because no one hears.
The little child lives on inside,
a scar that no one else can see,
a scar he cannot live without,
of the memory of innocence, raped and taken away.
On the other side of the door
he is ripping his soul to shreds,
remembering all the times he wished he had been dead,
and with it come the tears he'd been deprived.
A visceral agony pours forth
as he grieves for the child inside;
all his hatred and bile for the man
who was more than just a lie,
whose sick pleasure ruined his life,
until there is nothing but his sobbing,

helpless, broken, and lost.