Hello, my dear, care to open your eyes and ears?

I have a story I'd like to share, but must I ask of you to care?

Maybe you won't, you've judged it now, but soon you may not feel such doubt.

Come into my old memories, may they'll bring some type of feeling.


Long ago inside the blue, there was a boy, quite little too,

And In this blue, there was little noise or light, or even cute little toys,

But there were people, not too many, they would be the little boy's invisible family,

While grandma swayed to drunken daze, the little boy sat not too amazed,

For what he sees is nothing bad, just typical when one grows up this sad,

Not long much later a beast appears and whispers into the little boy's ear,

"Come with me, my little friend, let's play until you're happy again",

The beast smiled and disappeared, the little boy followed without any fear,

And wandered, he did, into a place, a world so simple yet also not safe

"My little innocent friend, no time to play in my big wonderland. Let us get down to the bluntness of blunt, no giggling, babbling, nothing of such"

And here is when the things go south, although the little boy was too little to doubt

He, made to obey the beast, too little to fight, too little to cease

Unclothed, no shame, what was there to shame, he didn't really know what there was to blame

Soon told to lie down, head facing the ground, he remembered he couldn't make any sounds

He heard so much noise, what did they expect, a child so young to just lie and not check,

So he did just that, and witness no glee, a thing not of his world, no, nothing he's seen,

He turned far away, but kept right in place, for he was told not to move or turn his face

The beast came on down, and tried to hurt him, did he know that it was getting so grim

It just did not work, the pain he wanted, the little boy free again, guess the beasts daunted





Many years later the boy knew what happened, and yet it does not affect him like it happened, so hell is memories you cannot erase, but neither do you learn from their bitter waste