The poem below was written by Alfred Gress. "He wrote this, and other poems, sometimes setting them to music, as he worked on his recovery from several years of childhood sexual abuse." Sadly he left this world on November 26, 2004.
I found this copy of it in the Mod Archive, placed there by one of the Mod's upon the author's death. It's also somewhere in this "Poetry" archive but I was unable to locate it. I thought it worth sharing once again.
Small and Still
by Alfred Gress
Daddy, come and play with me,
I've lots of toys for you to see.
Let's go outside and toss the ball,
I'll try real hard to catch them all.
Or maybe you could read to me,
The book about the dog at sea.
I know you're tired, you've worked all day,
You need your rest, and that's okay.
I'll go and find a game to play,
I'll try to do just what you say.
Or maybe I'll be tired, too,
And take a nap just like you do.
I must be good, do as I'm told,
My Daddy's tired, he's getting old:
"Don't slam the door, please let him rest.
It isn't good for little boys,
To go and make a lot of noise."
If I don't stay real small and still,
My poor, tired Daddy I might kill.
But it's okay if you can't play,
Another man wil come today.
He's strong and throws the ball real far,
He even lets me steer his car!
He's interested in everything,
I never know just what he'll bring,
He lifts me high and plays real rough,
Sometimes I just can't get enough!
He taught me how to shoot a gun,
He makes me feel just like his son!
But something makes my stomach tight,
The things he does that don't feel right.
He tells me everthing's okay,
But I just don't know what to say.
If I don't let him do those things,
I'll lose the fun he always brings.
Today I had a scary thought,
That someday, maybe, I'll get caught.
I feel confused and tired and old,
I don't understand what I've been told.
I'll see how small and still I can be,
So no one will discover me.
"Life's journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally worn out, shouting 'Holy Shit! What a ride!'" ~Hunter S. Thompson