To Whom It May Concern {Poems}

Don't

I always heard,
The stories they told.

The ones where the man
Tocuched the little girl.

They said to be careful.

Too young, didn't know

I went there every day

The parents, they saw
Yet none seem to care
About the stories they told.

I never liked it,
How his hands touched my skin
I felt it was wrong,
too young to understand.

They were always warm,
I thought nothing was wrong.
I wasn't the only one,
That old man had torn.

I never told mommy,
Thought she wouldn't believe
How that old man had touched me,
How that old man had been.

I thought it was normal,
My legs were too stiff,
My legs were too bent
So he put his hands on them,
More than it should been.

The warmth of them
Still send shivers.
I felt it was wrong,
No one said that it was.
So I went again,
And I went for three years.

I saw how he was,
With others, not just me.
The chubby one,
He didn't touch.
The older ones,
Too much.

She didn't need help,
She could do it on her own.
But he came and held her,
Put his hand on her waist.
His help wasn't needed,
I'm sure that he knew.
But he put his hand on her,
No matter the harm.

I saw as this happened.
No one saw what I had.
Could it be that I was crazy,
And what he doing was right?

Then I grew up,
Moved to other places.
I left it behind,
The memories lost.

Then I went there again,

The routine, the same.

Nobody saw,
Nobody cared.
They were all too busy,
Looking at their phones
To realize that this man,
Was touching their loves.

It was never too much,

Just more than was needed.

They never noticed,
Never even spoke.

Apparently, only I know.
Now that I'm older,
The man has retired.
Now they all noticed,
How bad that he was.

He taught us gymnastics,
while he felt us all up.
It was never too much,
Just more than enough.

Now that we're older,
We know what he's done.
But how is it possible
It took them so long?

Eight years it has been,
Since it started to grow.
My little cousin,
You're scared.
But why didn't you scare,
When I was there?

She'd been there before,
Not as much as me.
She never saw what I did,
Nobody did.

Now that I'm older,
I'm still scared of the truth.
It's out here, of course,
But mommy still doesn't know.
I wish I could tell her,
I'd hate to cause problems.
That's that not what I'm for.

I wish I was little
Once again in those days
To tell them truth,
The one they deserve.