Alienated and lonely,
Sad and afraid.
Speaking out is not an option,
help; a foreign word.

Touchy hands.
Slimy hands.
Dirty hands.
Rough hands.

Buttons pop,
The cotton tears,
loud panting;
Faint cries.

Imagine rainbows;
What my age will imagine.
Eight years ago,
I was born

The touching stops,
zipper zips,
and left alone,
'Till tomorrow morning.