Darling, I know they, control you, won’t let you
Escape from the fear sown in you
Wrapped up, in boots made, of concrete, laden feet
To shuffle and cower out of view
These stones and, these sticks make, for kisses, caresses
Compared to corrosive abuse
Sculptured, by razors, you’re molded, eroded
The smaller you are the more they bruise
Don’t play, the role they, wrote for you, this corkscrew
It twists ever downwards and skewed
You’ve out-grown, the games in, this playground, stand your ground
The enemy resides in you
Shame forms, like rust on, the sedate, in self-hate
Soils sheets in, the bed that you stew
Breathe deep, and rise up, to scale heights, balloon like
These memories will fade out of view
Copyright © 2012 Dean Stephenson
