written by: Matthew Earl
No streets paved with Gold.
A frightened young child, barely Fifteen years old.
A voice in the darkness offers some hope, a chance of salvation, hot water and soap
No Samaritan he, just a predatory beast, In a drugged drunken encounter on me he would feast.
Beaten and bloodied, a child no more.
I reach for the money he’s thrown on the floor.
A victim of rape and still just a teen, I scrubbed at my body but never felt clean.
A survivor I am at least I’m still here; living each day consumed by my shame and fear.
Latest posts by Matthew Earl (see all)
- Lest We Forget - November 11, 2018
- True Story - March 22, 2017