The Monster in his Brain 

 

As a child, 

He would smile. 

He was not wild,

But mild

And quiet

And kind.

 

He wanted to live a full life. 

He dreamed of being a loving husband,

And he longed for a beautiful wife. 

 

His mother and father were old,  

Born long ago.  

Because of their love, 

Because of the way they had been brought up,

They did not want him to know 

What went on in the world down below. 

 

In their home, 

It was not OK to talk about that thing born into us. 

It would not be long before he would come to know 

That used to be private thing 

More than he ever wanted to. 

 

It was a simple search on a screen 

That let him down a dark tunnel 

To a path unforeseen. 

He thought that it would do no harm. 

How could he know what he had not learned? 

 

On the screen 

Were people, 

But they were doing things 

He never knew were possible. 

 

He thought it might be bad; 

At first, 

He felt sad

And bad, 

But after a while, 

The pictures and videos made him feel wild.  

They did not make him feel mild.

Or like being kind.

He became even more quiet,

Though now, 

It was the disconcerting type 

Of silence.

 

He yearned for more, 

Hard-core. 

 

His digital thirst could not be quenched. 

When his family was away, 

He would play, 

But not with a ball 

Or a matchbox. 

 

After a while, 

The shame drained away. 

All he thought was that this felt great. 

 

Yet, 

He kept needing more, 

Even more hard-core. 

 

The things done,

He could not describe. 

He no longer dreamed of being a loving husband,

Nor did he lawn for a beautiful wife. 

He yearned for a woman, 

An object, 

For his fantasies,

For his property.

It would not be long before he found one.  

 

She was no woman;

She was just a child.

The next man in the car could not see the fear behind her eyes and sadness-tinged smile,

Nor did he see the man in the shadows,

Whose tiger-like eyes watched his prey

 With malice 

And hate.

 

He broke her not long ago.

He waited for the smallest sign of anything but total submission to show;

None ever came.  

 

She had once been loved

By someone else.

She thought she was still in love

With him,

With his charm,

His sometimes soft voice,

His ‘care’ for her,

His ‘want’ for her all for him.

 

She could not see that his love was a mask,

A facade.

She could never think to, 

Nor could she ask

If his love was a fraud.

 

She loved him.

She could never know that the only thing he loved 

Was the money in his pockets,

Earned by his persuasion 

And threats

And violence.

 

He forced her to wear a mask,

One with makeup, 

High heels,

And little close,

One of freedom,

And choice,

And desire.

 

The jon in the car

Never thought 

Or bothered 

To see her hidden scars

 

Behind her,

There was no knight,

Only a villain,

Who embodied fright

More than the captor of any historical princess.

 

No one was coming to rescue her.

She had been trained to think of his tower 

As her shelter.

Her captor was to her

By his order 

Her knight in shining armor.

 

She knew not, 

Nor could she think, 

To ask for help.

After all, 

She had a little sister to protect,

A mother who needed to be ignorant.

After all, 

Who would help her?

Who would believe her?

Who would know that anything was wrong with her?

After all, 

Wasn’t slavery over?

Wasn’t freedom the New World order?

How could there be such a thing as a seemingly free prisoner?

 

He was many that day.

There were always many in every day.

There had to be many every day,

 so that he would not come for her at the end of the day.

She had to get him so much money every day.

Every day was a normal day.

 

Yet, 

For her, 

Every day was Hell.

The men never asked if she was well,

For they never bothered to know that ‘her’ room 

Was more like her cell.

 

Nothing was hers;

Everything was the owners.

He went by another name-

A name that, 

To the outside world, 

Meant opulence and fame.

 

Yet,

Today would not be like yesterday 

Or any other day.

It was a sting;

The cops saw everyone and everything.

The ‘trick’ was processed,

Her ‘man,’ 

Her ‘daddy,’ 

Arrested.

She was rescued 

And slowly healed;

She still heals today.

 

The men were later sentenced,

Thanks in large part to her cooperation;

She wanted to help to make sure those men 

Would never hurt another her or even a him again.

 

To him and to some,

It- 

The beginning-

Was not his fault; 

 

He could not understand what happened. 

That first click, 

That first taste, 

Started a change inside his brain. 

 

The egg cracked before it was ready, 

The flour opened before it was grown.

With its shell obliterated,

Exposing the malleable, delicate yolk underneath 

To premature knowledge and retrospective grief;

The tiny center of innocence was crushed 

Never to be put back together again.

The pedals were wripped away,

Ground to a finer powder with each new, deceptively veiled click.

The leaves and stem,

His former armor,

His previous protection,

Blue into the sweeping gale  of company greed,

And were uprooted and subsequently planted in immoral soil.

This new flower had a stunted growth.

 

His child mind could not withstand the impact 

Of that spear we call porn.  

Porn ran it’s course through his mind, 

Unabated, 

Unseen, 

Bye everyone else but he. 

 

How could he know that it was wrong? 

He was too young 

To understand what he had been shown

And then what he wanted to see and then do.. 

 

It-

That first click-

Was not his fault; 

The only fault then was in the company 

And others who should have protected him. 

 

Yet,

He knows that he is not blameless.

What he did later,

What he did to her,

How much pleasure 

He took from forcing himself on her-

The doll-like figure 

Of the girl next door-

Is something he can barely live with.

He contemplated ending it,

But then, 

The demon would win

Its final victory-

Him.

 

Where is he now? 

He has sought help, 

But the recovery is still ongoing. 

It is too painful for him to wonder what he could have been 

If someone, 

Something, 

Could have prevented him 

From clicking that first image. 

If the site could not have been accessed by him, 

Then likely, 

His mind would not have been ruined. 

 

He tells people, 

Especially those who are young, 

That there is a way back. 

If he can prevent one person from losing their innocence, 

Then that would fulfill his new plan.