Playtime

Sat, 02/01/2020 - 23:29 -- j.lowe

Oh hard it is to wish goodwill on the one who hurt you the worst

Their hands roughly savaging as their greed and lust strengthened

Yanking the innocence from underneath your small child legs

Stiff like the Barbie dolls she never held

Because they were too grown-up for little girls like you

But little girls like you were perfect and doll-like for men

Who cannot remember the manners their mothers taught them

As little boys chasing little girls

But nonetheless, they are grown, men

Who see those little girls like those

Grown-up dolls she never held

This poem is about: 
Me

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