History Was To Blame

By vulgar hands,

thieves

of your innocence

you found yourself defiled.

From your own childhood,

exiled,

to act out the fears

you could not drown

with your silent tears.

Later you would stand tried,

found guilty and convicted,

From your family ‘s love,

you felt yourself evicted,

for doing to another

the unspeakable,

in the manner it was done to you.

Your hands became the thieves,

as they stole into forbidden ground,

surely just one time

would not hurt.

There was no one else around

to stop you.

It was not like you meant

to hurt,

humiliate,

or shame,

another innocent,

History was to blame.