When I, merely a teenager, took up drums.
Soon, taking lessons. Music store owner himself.
A short squat fellow. All accounts, well versed.
But soon asked several awkward sexual questions.
I began being uncomfortable.
Even with a friend with me to witness my lessons.
Quit lessons. Continued drumming.
Decades later. I told my father why I'd quit lessons.
I weep for innocent children. Their childhood stolen by monsters.
I weep for children in much harsher circumstances.
Who's destiny's irrevocably altered.
Now he's jailed. Molestation. Child porn.
If I ever see that fat fuck again. I'll wring his fat fucking neck.
Thomas Andersen over 4 years ago
I can vote but once. However, this piece deserves a googolplex of acknowledgments and praises, not only for the way you display the bottled up anger and sadness, the deep frustration and feelings of empathy toward the victims, but also for you speaking up. Thanks!
Drew Martyn over 4 years ago
Totally with Thomas here. The way you control the rate of anger during this is nothing short of incredible. Its a difficult subject handled with both sensitivity and passion - superb.
D.M. over 4 years ago
I echo the sentiments above. And all those years, the father probably wondering and perhaps disappointed not knowing the truth.