Young boys thrive on dirty messes
they love not bathing
playing in mud
running in the surf
dirt was smooth and soft
the canvas that God painted the world from
can't take dirt
gotta have dirt
a dirty messy kid with sand in his hair
black marks on his feet and knees
a smile engraved in his face
tells the story of what he loves about dirt
perspective can change things
dirt can be washed
boys can be clean outside
dirt rinses off
innocence taken
used boy, clean outside but dirty inside
damage denied, hurt ignored
FROZEN in time
a thousand baths later I am still dirty
Filthy little boy liked it
didn't fight back enough to stop it
became the object, become the prostitute
the dream of being alive
has been replaced
with the dream of surviving
and not dying
for that loss and so many things I can't replace
I grieve, I mourne, I ache
I cry, I break
what has it cost?
None but all.....Just me..that was the price.
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