He was in a playful mood
Hopping his way back home
Mother was late she had said
Uncle would bring him home
They talked about school
And the games he played
Once inside the haven of his home
“Are you still feeling playful?” he said
Oh maybe we could play some board games
Or turn on the x-box
Or go out and swing in the trees
Foot a ball or hit a bat
He had not seen coming
The gross touches and force
That playful would have some other meaning
Shook him to the core
“Dare you speak about this”
He was warned
And he lived with the guilt
Or being wrong
Why was he so soiled?
For the life of him he could never gather
His innocence was trampled
And he never would be a child ever

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Playful

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