One Little Boy A Thief Poem by James McLain

Looking around
as happier faces
made thee other wise
and sadder grew mine as more and more
ignored my plea for what some knew was going on
this thief of my happiness
the future stole away
and was this how it made them little people so
whom could think such little ones would be made
in this lost image of their way
I did not know
to look into their faces to see if they became
sexually aroused by all the pain they happy
then as now could cause.
The first cut may be the deepest but the spear
is always sharp
and blood is of the blood, please say it naught
is why one little boy became a thief instead.
And still no body came.
Except to throw away the key that one they knew
would fit their door a window always opened.
Breaking mirrors, walking shores the sea my dream
I am no more that cup of sand,
each day that comes each wave it washes clean.
And none will make me that of which I never was,
and blessed are those few, ' lest you forget.