I’m sorry, he can’t come out to play
Little Joshua isn’t here today
He left for good, some time ago
To a place where he never wanted to go
He isn’t real anymore, you see
Not flesh and blood, like you and me
He’s made of plastic, now, in fact
Eight millimeters wide, to be exact
In such a state he can’t be seen
Except on a TV or computer screen
Lost inside a digital hell
Or trapped inside a celluloid cell
Stripped bare by the twisted of mind
And downloaded nearly a thousand times
Shattered like glass by a continual crime
Like Humpty Dumpty in a nursery rhyme
How, you ask, did he end up this way?
A woman, and man, who could not say
“You’re not old enough”, instead
His image on VHS they spread
To feed their evil appetite
(A recorded image back cannot fight)
To share with friends in emotional squalor
Innocence lost to the all-mighty dollar
And who knows him now, you ask me to tell?
Anyone to which they were willing to sell
People like them, who wanted to see
What children can be tricked to be
No longer alive, but not truly dead
A fantasy boy to live in their head
To say, play, do and show
Things they wouldn’t want their own mothers to know
But surely, you say, these people hide in the dark?
Maybe once, but now proudly and loudly they lark
They want to own the boy, trade him, keep him in reach
They fight for this “right”, and call it “free speech”
But Josh, he can’t speak if he ever gets bold
‘cuz he’s “only a picture”, or that’s what we’re told
Just a depthless image, in a monitor’s lights
Something the size of a few megabytes
Forced to repeat the same shameful dance
He’d never do again if he had half a chance
Nothing but a tool, and instrument, a way
To satisfy whatever perverted needs may
Occur to the soulless who’ve made him their own
A sin for which they can never atone
So sorry, child, he cannot come out to play
Little Joshua isn’t here today
He was taken, you see, some time ago
To a place no one should ever have to go.

Josh,

I am so very sorry. I just weep when I read this. You are so right:

Thanks for giving me a sense of perspective on an aspect of child abuse that I really had not thought much about until this past week.

Much love,
Larry

It is something like anguish. My abusers aren't simply the people who made the videos - they're anyone who ever bought them, copied them, or downloaded them. Everytime somebody watches them, it's like I'm abused all over again, without even knowing it. Even if my "original" abusers were caught and punished for what they did, I wonder if I would be able to find closure just for that reason.

I read long ago about how some cultures in Asia Minor disliked having their photos taken, as they believe their soul is captured within the image. When I finally began to understand I was abused, and learned about the business of child pornography, I fancied my soul was captured in those tapes - and that everytime somebody copied or traded them, that soul was torn into smaller and smaller pieces. So when I read about recent court decisions regarding child pornography, and the argument made by some that the pertinent issue is "freedom of speech", I get angry. Those who say that possession shouldn't be punished even as lightly as it is, argue that "these people didn't abuse any kids - they're only looking at PICTURES" make me want to scream out loud. It's -not- "just pictures". It's me. And right now, I say NO.

I should hasten to add that I'm past the "shattered soul" stage at this point - but I'm not satisfied with "the patience to accept those things which I cannot" change. I don't know if I'm ready at this moment, but I can see myself eventually fighting back at some point, in some way, in the future

Josh,

I think your answer to the argument "It's just pictures" is spot on! Another would be that this is a record of the torment of a child, a little boy being betrayed and exploited for the gratification of others - something to be repeated over and over again. Every time that video is copied or viewed the statement is that this little boy doesn't matter: not him, not his pain, not his worth as a child, nothing.

How can that be "just pictures"?

But the truth Josh is that you do matter. Terrible as those films are, your soul wasn't lost in them. Your soul is what is making you strike out and reclaim your life right now.

There is so much to be said about this. I hope you will benefit from the site and grow and learn while at the same time giving us more of this very personal perspective. We need to hear this.

Much love,
Larry

Wow! This one hurt to read.

Josh,
The injustice you suffered is so real - you are so brave to begin to face this. We're here for any kind of support we can give.

You can find your soul like Larry said.
Sorting it out - you may feel displaced somehow as you sort out your feelings but you will emerge in triumph!

keep hanging in there and keep moving forward!

You're friend,
Rivers

Images or not, it is common to feel abused over and over. It is a part of our condition, our learned behavior. I can't imagine your particular situation but I can relate for sure.

This poem is beautifully written and, I think, speaks for many of us. After that, I have no other words. Rather than cry, like Larry did, I find myself using my defense mechanisms to shut out the pain you've described...that's how fucking sad it is. - John

I wish I could say, "I can't imagine what you must be going through." But we all know the pain, and though it comes from different places and in different ways, we all feel it. I'm so sorry that they have done this to you. In your other poem you talk of forgiving yourself. You must understand that you have nothing to forgive yourself for. You were hurt, you were wronged, and you are incredibly strong. Anyone here would take your hurt away for you if he could. The poem is incredible, and through it I can tell that you are too.

Bobby

Josh,

This is a good piece, painful and heartbreaking, but good. You seem like you are really moving in the right direction with your recovery. Good for you, and anyone who reads this. This was hard to read, and you are exactly right in your feelings and conclusions. Thanks.

Josh,

I want to fight back, I'm just about ready to, I looking for a weapon!

Darrel

Darrel,

Sometimes the weapons are where we least expect to find them, and those whose power we underestimate until we actually believe in them.

Ours is a weapon that goes by this name: "innocence".

Much love,
Larry