Pain shame fear restlessness torment

A conscience blown to bits by one trusted

And another, but a stranger that night,

For a few hours, just, lingering

Both gaining steam from expression,

Building over time, a disgust,

All considered, unhappiness, but,

It must include, judgment.

Early on, I pushed and prodded,

Coaxed and manipulated, like these

Masters of the art, then, reality.

Cruelty and slavery, sexuality,

If only it wasn’t too late for the show.

We requested a few moments alone

To discuss our options,

Any supplies needed, prejudices included.

A difficult position to be in,

I knew I’d be chosen, eventually,

He knows you will give a go ahead.

He knows you won’t report, or does he?

Author: Gordon S. Bowman III

Writer, Visual Artist, Blogger

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