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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Dark · #1636404
Childhood pain comes back to haunt.
The Face appears so dark and cold
And wears a mask of hate
The Hands caress so calm and bold
Just yearning to create
A broken beaten tired boy
Unable to repeat
Those ghastly secrets of the toy
That he's been made to be

They grip so deep inside,
These Hands will not relent
And struggle as he might
The boy begins to drift
Away into the Darkness Sea
Where children can't exist

He lays to rest those old dark dreams
And simply stays awake
Unwilling to re-see those things
His mind begins to break
And fall he does into the sea
Of Darkness deep and wide
A place where he can never be
The boy he kept inside
Now he's the one he promised
He would never be
He's the HAND that ruins
Little children's dreams


WORD COUNT- 138
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