childmolestation
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walking through hallways of deceased childhoods and wet pillowcases
where little boys and girls couldn’t find protection in their own homes
their lips cold
You were our hero
Hovering over our
Innocence.
But you swapped your
Respect for oxytocin rushing
Through your veins
for a taste of love
and a taste of innocence.
The first time I held a book, I was a mere three years of age.
I had no idea what the imprinted words on the book meant,
Only, that I wanted to read them, know them, understand them.
How did it feel to wrap your hands around him and strip his innocence like meat off the bone? How does it feel to know that for fifteen years you left his mind in constant fear? You surround yourself with broken dreams and the tears of children.
