I Learned as Young to Only Trust
Young and blue,
Profound and wise,
That this would be my true demise;
A show of horror, wretched guise.
December came so long ago.
Twas nearly time to see the show.
I caught a glance
And surely did know
I should not see; I should not go.
The body stirred,
The innards whirred;
No rationale of what occurred.
The living room was then disturbed
By Mother’s arms that had me herd.
To the car, but with a fight
I swung my arms toward the right.
I locked on tight
Till Mother forced me from kitchen sight.
The scene changed…
The space was dark…
The crowd was large…
The sounds were loud…
The villain moved with lips of red
Hair of bleach white
With black like the dead.
I wished to be at home instead
To face the known of blanket and bed.
The show went on
So far, so good
The crowd did laugh; I never could.
Nearing end, I should have stood
And ran back home to neighborhood.
In the back I sat and quaked,
The time had come to settle fate.
I then realized
Twas no escape
From sights my mind will always hate.
The villain met a horrid fate
Of violence cruel in sloppy paste.
A woman’s pride
In sty was placed.
No sight of joy upon my face.
How could it be
This wretched show?
To so much filth it had to go.
I saw it once and now I know
To never return to it’s audience row.
I’m older now
With mind of rust
Recalling sights of darkened crust
My instincts strong that never bust,
I learned as young to only trust.
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This Poems Story
Childhood trauma can come from anything. In this poem, a young child is scarred by the memory of a film he knew he would not like. Against his will, his instincts were tested. They proved to be right and they proved to be the only thing for the child to trust.