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Charlie Maine


Nottinghamshire, England, UK

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Charlie Maine

A naked man walking in the rain.
An old women shouting out her dead sons name.
A small child scratching at her skin, pleaing for mercy and hoping that she would be taken back home by her kin.

Outside commuters rush from one place to another,
never having time to stop and talk, or even to smile at each other.

Yet who is safer in this world:
And who is the raper and the real madman?
Who is the saine and who is the sainer?
Who are the kept and who are the keepers?
Who are the abusers and who are the abused?

The things that we do can not be defined by doctors and their charts:
The man in rain;
The old woman shouting out her deads sons name;
They all have their reasons for their actions.
So who is who and therefore who are you?



Charlie Maine

Everybodies different,
Everybody cries,
Everybodies reasons are different, why?

Everybody laughs,
Everybody smiles,
Well, at least once in a while.

We can all pretend,
We can all decieve,
We can all lie and we can all ask the reasons why.

Everybody screams: perhaps at the end of a bad dream.
Everybody hurts, some more than it seems.

We can all stand back and watch and ignore: the abuser walking out pof the childs bedroom door.
We can shut out the tears only to make our fears swell and grow, we can read the newspaper scream out the hell, yet they (the readers) sit back and lie to themselves thinking, simply that it has nothing to do with them.

Ignorance is bliss, they think...



Charlie Maine

The pain we feel is nothing compared to child who hides at the sound of the lock turning in the bedroom door.
The abuser cares for nothing, not even the law.
The child screams as the rapier holds them down as he wants more.

It could be anyone, even the kind looking neighbour who lives next door,
Watching the children playing outside, thinking of all the pain they can share.
If you think this might be rare then you are sadly mistaken.

All pain seems like nothing as the child breaks down after being held down,
All pain seems to subside as you realise about all the horrors they’ve endured,
Think about what they’ve been told while they tried to escape the agonising hold.

My words mean nothing,
There not even an insight to what might go on,
I have no knowledge about the atrocities that have go on,
All I can do is weep and express my sadness for what they endure.
I understand the hate and pain they feel,
But then again what do I know?
Vayour con dios,
And may your God keep and bless you.

For those who are the victims of this I say to them: do not be afraid, seek help you are not alone and do not think you are. If you think you have no one you know where I am, for perhaps I am the one who will listen, and I will.....