A Cry For The Little Boy Who Didnt Have A Voice.

A Cry For The Little Boy Who Had No Voice.

My heart bleeds for the little boy that was told to suck it like he was sucking on his favourite ice pop.
He didn't understand what she meant until she took out a lollipop and uttered the words "it's as easy this" before showing him how to do it.
My heart bleeds for the confliction that was going on in the little boy's head. In his heart.
He knew right from wrong but he felt caged and with no way to escape.
My heart bleeds for the little boy who was told to insert his fingers in a place he had grown to know to be sacred.
For the day his perspective of women changed.
For the day he felt like his mind was rearranged.
Like he was loosing it 

My heart bleeds for the boy that was told that he was going to sleep over at Aunt Thulisile's house that night.
He didn't want to but he had no choice because his single mother had to go work for him.
Because his father left and he wanted the best for both his mother and himself.
He didn't want to enter that door but he had to fake a smile to make it out alive.

My heart bleeds for the little boy that was molested over and over again and didn't have the courage to speak because he somehow got used it.
When he grew older his friends teased him of being a virgin and when he defended himself and said he was not,
the question of "who broke your virginity?" broke him and left them wondering if it was really that good or if she was really that special.
Little did they know that his first was not a very pleasant first.
Little did they know that he resented the mere presence of certain family members and family friends.
That he had grown to not want relationships.
That he couldn't give himself a chance with a woman.

My heart bleeds for the boy that was molested by his uncle .
He didn't understand what he was doing because he couldn't see anything.
He couldn't see anything besides the wall he kept on banging onto.
Because all he could see was the silhouette of his uncle's body and movements on the wall.
Down to the tiniest thing like how he looked up when he could feel the rhythm get faster and his voice growling out of satisfaction and pleasure.

They didn't have a voice.
They were scarred for life.
Nobody knew because everyone claimed that men,boys and infants were never molested.
That it was only females that endured such cruelty.