I set out to murder a child of ten
I was desperate for admission to the World of Men
So I led me to the door of the pervert’s den
And I left me there to fend for myself
Knock-knock-knock!
Now, in partial mitigation of the things the pervert did
I should mention he was just fifteen, so technically a kid
And when his misdeeds came to light he ran away and hid
He took the blame, I felt the shame and shut the lid. Enough!
Let’s return now to the stripling at the door
Knock-knock-knock!
“I can only let you enter if you promise not to tell”
Said the pervert to the child, who piped, “I think that’s just as well
‘Cos if my Dad found out that I was here he’d knock us both to Hell”
And with that the monster in the pervert’s pants began to swell
The child had access…
…and it thrilled him to discover such an organ could exist
The thing was longer than his forearms
Even thicker than his wrists
He held it to his soft pink cheeks
He rubbed and licked and kissed it
And afterwards they shared a Danish porn mag and a biscuit
Then the child walked home
Alone
And smiling
On that day – day one – of oh so many
I TRIED REALLY HARD TO KILL HIM but, of course, this child survived
Whereas the adult he so nearly was
Absolutely died
That day
Not immediately, admittedly, but slowly over time
Through adolescent bed-wetting, drink, drugs, petty crime
Through academic failure born of fractured concentration
A penchant for pornography (despite some reservations)
And as he stumbled into working life the gradual realisation
He had a textbook case of premature sexualisation
It defined him and consumed him
From that day – day one – of oh so very very many
The young boy and the nearly man
I dearly love them both
But I have to let them go
They are impediments to growth
And they seriously need to…
Leave me be now
Just leave me be.
I am not a silent poet 