It's dark in here; but I'll hang I should feel fear; I'm too young to understand such a thing Why do I miss your touch? I was a child; you were a teen— Life found no victim, just an object. Your reject taught me things from 3 till 9. Never had a childhood that was actually mine, Oh, mother, why are my words a lie? When his, you can not believe or deny How did my heart begin to love? A feminine touch so much... Was but a toy that knew none such Yet, here I am; cherishing the female form Enjoyed is every moment where touch is warm Finding happiness in long blocks and hours Remembering moments that are better than ours I picked up a pen for the first time to write you out Wound up to be a night of sleep that I did without By taking my innocence away from me I wrote things to damn you in poetry What a brother does, a child can not understand— Life later found no object, just permanence In this closet closed; from the bar, I hang