Purgatory

All the world's a mess.

All men and women, merely threads

Of joy, sorrow, love and regret.

All exist in this living hell,

Full of satanic stories to tell,

One of these, unfortunately, is mine.

That starts when I was a wee lad of nine.

Mother...A loving, wise lady

An amalgam of brains and beauty. 

Father....A handsome, straight figure 

My source of power and duty.

A happy go lucky child, worries were unknown. 

But soon it was to end....

For this living world has devils of it's own

And one of them did reside in my own home.

My uncle...was he a shady man?

Did not seem so.

But it got crystal a long time ago..

As he called me to his lap, and locked the bedroom door.

The next moment, I lay trembling on the floor.

For this kind of 'Love' was so unheard of...

I was nine..and näive....

Nothing did I know...

I dared not tell my parents, because the master told me so.

Instead ...

Every night, I just lay sobbing within those walls..hating every inch of that devil..

Watching the bruises on my soiled body grow.

One day, I broke.

This couldn't go on..Simply not.

So I took refuge in my mother's arms...and told her all.

And the wise lady said...

"Stop crying like weak.

Be a man."

The torment ceased after I left that house.

But that child was long dead.

And in his place, was a soulless hound

Devoid, of the very last shreds.

For people think I'm insane..

"Afraid of his own shadow, ha!

Our help he seeks, of tears he reeks..

And all that being a 'Man'."

This world is awash with barbaric people

My only life's in what I write.

I just hope someone breaks those walls

In which that dead child lies.